#but back then i didn't feel confident that i could offer consistent work

[eowynstwin]

Oh my god babe. Do Not be embarrassed about anything. Honestly, people are just poor (it's a tough economy). Please trust me that you are one of the realest people in the fandom, and I really enjoy reading anything you write, whether it's fic or analysis or headcanons or whatever.

And, I don't mean this in a way that devalues your fic-writing at all, but I want to say that what makes you Really Unique in this fandom is your analysis, opinions, etc. You're very genuine and refreshing, and you have very interesting takes on fandom meta topics. Just wanted to offer that up, in case that's something you want to explore/ something you want to lean into more. I think if you were on another platform, people would be drawn to you as an influencer, but uh here we are on tumblr.................

Lol you're not the first person to mention the influencer thing. I appreciate the compliment!

However, all I've ever really wanted to be known for is my writing. And believe me, I understand fully that that's on me to write more and post more often. The internet has a short memory.

I think this was just the wrong point in time to try something like this. It hasn't even been three weeks since I've been back! I just got so enthusiastic about the idea, maybe a bit tunnel-visioned lmao.

[cloudyeventss]

I thought I try my hand at writing a little story about being 141's assistant. I'm not sure where I'm taking this or even if I should continue. Let me knoww but be sweet. This is literally my first attempt at writing anything

Warnings~ cussing, slightly anxious ? Idk

Y/n pov

He's staring right at me. Slouching slightly to his left, strands of blue dyed hair peeking out underneath his hat. He clearly hasn't been sleeping, I can see the dark circles under his eyes. I don't think I’ve seen him blink once. This is too much. Too fucking much I'm starting to fidget with the belt of my purse, shifting back n forth trying to ease my nerves. I'm overwhelmed and overestimated. This bus smells worse than a gas station bathroom, it doesn't help it’s hotter than the damn desert in here, my sweater is starting to itch and the constant sound of the buses bell going off is enough to make my head explode. GOD why did my car have to break down today? sweat is beading my forehead I feel nauseous. GOD DOES THIS MAN EVER BLINK?!? *ding* fuck finally my stop. I've never been more relieved in my life to leave somewhere... stepping outside I feel like I can breathe again not by much though, last night, laying in bed i got a call from my father's friend Laswell telling me to meet her at a Cafe not too far from my home. Usually, I wouldn't be so nervous to see her, being Laswell and my father worked together for the past 10 years. She’s been around quite a few times but this time She spoke about a potential job opportunity as an assistant overseas. I'm not even sure I heard her right, i was a bottle deep into Apothic red wine. Nothing special but drink enough it’ll knock you on your ass. I've been anxious ever since. After finishing my associates degree in mind and body psychology, I wasn't sure I wanted to continue with school. Maybe I just need a break, but I also need a job. I take one final deep breath to attempt to calm my nerves as I wipe my sweaty palms down my jeans. Okay now’s the time to be confident y/n don't freak out .....

There she is sitting with her back against the wall right in between both exits like always. I'd say she's paranoid but with the work she does it's more justifiable. Laswell stands to greet me "Y/n , it's great to see you!" She moves to sit, and I follow. " it's good to see you too Kate, it's been awhile" . Lunch goes by smoothly; it always was easy falling into conversation with her. A red headed waitress with long legs and black trim glasses drops us our check before walking off to tend to her other tables. My eyes follow her as she passes, she's one of those girls who are effortlessly beautiful. Laswell gains my attention again " so your father tells me you are looking for work"

" I am"

"I could use someone I trust"

"Tell me more"

.....

It'd been two weeks since I met with Laswell, and I accepted the job offer. She explained it mainly consist of filing paperwork and doing whatever task ask of me, running errands, and so on. Kate didn't really give me any details of who I'd work for, just that it was four men she trusted with her life and assured me I'd be in good hands. Today's the day I get on a plane and uproot my whole life. I spent every bit of yesterday taking care of last-minute arrangements. I sold my piece of shit Honda to some high school kid . I almost felt bad for taking his money, but I told him of its issues. In a way I'ma miss Johnny. I named my car after a porn star, Johnny Sins. Ha. It still makes me chuckle . My honda wasn't much, but it always got me where I needed to be hints the name. After taking care of my car I went to see my father. He graciously agreed to look after my apartment for me while I was gone. We spent the rest of the evening watching old westerns on TV and saying our goodbyes.

.....

It's only four hours into the flight, and I'm already regretting my decision. I've spent most of the time in the bathroom emptying my stomach while avoiding angry knocks on the door. The taste of bile in my mouth makes me a little less caring about the people outside. Deciding I can't spend the rest of the flight in the bathroom, I pick myself off the floor and do my best to rinse my mouth. Flying has never sat right with me. I like my feet on the ground instead of tempting God. Regardless, I have to tough it out, its not like I can get them to land now. I walk out the restroom, mumbling hushed, apologizes, and take my seat. Just six more hours.. you got this y/n.

[flamingskull28]

(Agent 96 story from the poll)

3 sat between Callie and Marie, staring off and being unaware of everything besides the beaming summer time heat and her fellow Agents in the distance.

4 was practicing at the row of target bloons, there used to be just 3 but 4 and 8 worked together to add various targets, some moving and others impopable..

They were both so talented...

3's cheeks flushed as she watched 4 tear through the target range with each weapon she had then switch to the next and do it again with ease. The girls movements were perfect anytime she broke from a sprint, 4 instantly swung her weapon and took her target out then the next.

3 wondered if they'd ever be on that level of strength or precision, maybe not but it still was enjoyable to watch 4 at work. The Agents firm muscles catching 3's eye consistently, they showed perfectly with 4's long elegant tentacle, shorts and crop top combined with their hero jacket tied around their waist. Seeing 4 like this made 3's stomach flutter in strange ways... her face was getting way to hot as well..

3 turned their gazed to 8, who was tinkering with various weapons at Sheldon's upgrade station. Though it didn't help 3's situation as the octoling zipped through the contents of a splatling, seeming to know the device like the back of her own hand.

8 had taken off the front barrel of a hydra and grabbed the barrel from a nearby killer wail cannon, somehow gripping the heavy part with one hand showing strength simler to 4's. 8 went on to weld the two items together, taking a brief moment to admire the handy work then instantly diving back into the Frankenstein of a splating.

3 blushed further, these two were astounding. 3 knew how she felt about them but... how would she ever be on their level?

3 hoped she'd ever have the strength to tell them how she felt.

----

4 grunted as she put a full force swing into hitting the target balloon. Destroying the thing instantly. She smirked, having gone through the course with all her weapons three times now. This thing had been a pain for her and 8 to build... though 4 didn't think she deserved much credit, she'd only offered ideas and stuck mechanics together, 8 was the real brains.. she was so smart...

4 took a seat next to her training course, as close to 8 as possible without being to weird. She took the chance to look over the marvel of weapon tech, 8 had stuck together. 4 went over the amount of carefully connected components and clever welding it took to form a hydra with a killer wail, in her head and admired 8's skills even more. A blush overtakeing her.

She really hopped no one noticed her staring at 8's mechanics outfit and tied up tentacles, 8 was very pretty girl.... 4 never had the heart to say that to her though...

"H-Hey 4 mind i-if... I uh, try the training course?" 3 approached timidly, 4 found their nervousness adorable given the girl always looked so tough from afar. Oddly 4 got the same happy and bubbly feeling when 3 was around as she did with 8...

"Of course ya dummy, it's a training course for all of us. It's about time I see you try it out." 4 remarked with a lighthearted shoulder punch then stood back to give 3 room.

3 flashed a smile in response then rested their hero shot. 3 definitely didn't match 4 in strength or precision but her agility and tactical prowess were more then enough to burn through the training course.

4 was impressed with how efficiently 3 cleared it on their first go. Sure it was a bit slow and she manged to get knocked over by one of the reinflating balloons but still. Though 4 was a bit biased, she loved to watch 3 at work and this was no different, why was a question 4 had yet to understand.

A call from 8 caught her attention before she could ponder it.

"Maybe one day I can tell them about this weird feeling.." she mumbled

----

"4,3! I believe it's finished." 8 smiled confidently while wiping the sweat from her head.

"That hydra + killer wail thing you've been crafting?" 3 sat her gun down and walked over with 4.

"The Wailing Hydra." 4 stated matter of factly with a hint if teasing.

"Yup! Been putting this together all day, not to mention designing it.." 8 held the weapon up proudly, clearly struggling to support the weight. It was a hydra mixed with a killer wail, various tubed, braces and an extra large tank were required to make it so that was a given. "Who wants the first test run? I don't want to be using it if it explodes." 8 laughed with her statement though 3 didn't seem to catch that given her worried expression.

8 couldn't help but find it cute, 3 was a softie at heart and everyone knew it. It made 8 found of the girl... she assumed the butterflies thinking about them gave her was nothing though.

"I'll try it!" 4 reached out to grabbed the weapon from 8, her smile a mix of chaos and excitement.

"Careful! It's hea-....vy?." 8 was surprised when 4 easily held up the weapon with just one hand

"Eh a bit." Was all 4 said as she admired the thing, the tank inside taking ink from her own tank. It needed a full tank of ink to work. "I think it's full so stand back."

8 flushed seeing 4's pure confidence as the sound of mechanical whirling filled the air. The weapon audiblely pumped ink into the main firing mechanism and soon enough it was ready to fire.

4 let go of the trigger and a massive beam of yellow ink exploded from the barrel, a solid stream of destruction landing where ever she aimed, one that even popped the normally unpoppable balloons.

4 laughed as if this was the most fun she'd ever had. 8 watched on in admiration, why was this hot..? Must just be a random thought.... yeah totally.

Eventually the beam died down. 4 turned back around with a face of pure joy "That. Was. AWESOME!" 4 hugged 8 in appreciation, unaware of how the octoling instantly felt her whole face flush.

"N-No problem." 8 said trying and failing to keep her cool til 4 let go and then ranted about the amazing handling and all around great design, 8 felt lightheaded from the praise from a girl she looked up too.

Timidly 3 interrupted "Hey uh.. c-coukd I try, it looked fun..." 4 smiled brightly and handed 3 the weapon and made sure she was handling it right.

8 watched 4 instruct 3, her face still burning... maybe one day she could admit what they made her feel

[jerzwriter]

I wanted to take the high road; I really did.

First, no one comes here for drama. I know I've contributed to that in the past, but I have learned from it and made a conscious choice to focus on the positive going forward.

Second, the other party has publicly stated that they are coping with serious mental health issues. I'm not a monster. I don't want this person to spiral. I don't want to add to their obvious pain. I thought I'd stay quiet; they'd get bored and move on. Well, that didn't happen, and I'm doubtful it ever will.

Third, I don't share private conversations. Anything you share with me is in confidence, and I expect the same courtesy in return. Even if we're no longer friends. Even if we are enemies. So, even after this person and some of their friends broke that trust with me, I still chose to do the right thing and keep our conversation private. But it's come to the point that I feel they're taking advantage of me being a better person than them, and I'm done.

Jeremeykau's blog was taken down last week. It was taken down because he consistently posted, telling me to kill myself. Wishing that I would die and saying other things that were beyond vile. In fact, they went so far as to link those sentiments to Discord after Tumblr took down numerous posts for violating standards. When they didn't stop, Tumblr took the blog down in its entirety. I'm happy to provide screenshots if needed.

For those who blame me or think the blog was taken down due to fandom drama... I don't work at Tumblr. I don't have friends working for Tumblr. I do not control Tumblr policy. Tumblr does not take down blogs because of drama between users, but they do take them down when someone is posting daily, telling another person to enjoy their s*icide.

For those lucky enough to be unfamiliar with this drama. J and I spoke 3 months ago. I made ONE post. ONE. After months of J's "vague" posts, then some not-so-vague ones. It was after one of the latter that I finally responded publicly. My purpose? To say I see you, and I want the shit to stop. I didn't call for anyone to be harassed - in fact - I made it clear I didn't want that. But it wasn't a deterrent and J continued to post shit about me directly or indirectly. I didn't reply. ONE POST. Versus dozens now hundreds of J's.

After some time, a mutual friend told me J wanted to talk, and I was uneasy. I have dealt with people like this in my life, and I know it is a dangerous proposition. I had friends warn me not to. But I chose to give J the benefit of the doubt in hopes that we could work things out. Why? I want to live in peace here, and I wanted J to be able to live in peace here, too. But J doesn't want peace.

I've linked our full conversation below. Feel free to see it for yourself. It's our entire conversation. I redacted when J talked about mental health issues because even if they wish to share those details publicly, it's not for me to do. I'm not about to do that. I also redacted the names of others because they don't deserve to be made public.

See it for yourself. It was a surprisingly pleasant conversation, and J seemed to be as grateful as I was. We worked on apologies together. Together. The only thing I refused to do was gaslight people by saying J never said KY when they had publicly many times. I don't gaslight. Outside of that, J said my apology was "GREAT." We ended by saying we were happy we talked, and if we ever had issues with each other again, we would come to each other and discuss them privately.

I even reached out after to see if J was doing well. Since we had unblocked each other, I could see all posts, and I tell J's mental health was not good. I was honestly worried when they threatened self harm, and I reached out to offer an ear if needed. Foolishly, I actually cared.

There was no response. The next thing I knew, J and a couple friends were back to their campaign against me. They never once came to me to discuss. One of those other friends and I also apologized to each other and said we were happy it was worked out. What changed? I have no idea. I never contacted any of them outside of what you can see here; I never discussed them publicly. As far as I knew, this was dead and buried. But none of them gave me the courtesy of reaching out privately... as J promised to do. Because none of them want this worked out, and they seem to want to subject the entire fandom to it.

Please note in the conversation that J says it was really all J's fault for starting this. That it was done over some petty shit. Where J admits to not being a nice person holding grudges, yet was glad it worked out. I was glad, too, but I was sincere.

And since you're bringing other people into the mix now? I'll just say as eager as she was to reach out to you, I will give her the courtesy of not sharing our story here. I won't share our conversations or the MANY conversations from others in various choices fandoms who had plenty to say about their sins. I'm letting sleeping dogs lie, but if I get bit, I'll bite back.

Look - no one has to like me. You can have the shittiest opinion of me. You can hate my fucking guts, and I honestly don't care. Block me and move the fuck on with your life. But you WILL Not publicly harass me, you WILL not tell me to kill myself and wish death upon me publicly, you will not stalk my blog and present your twisted version of the truth non-stop and think I'm going to take it. I hate that I've probably fed J's narc supply for months with this. I literally hate it. But to be honest, this isn't for J - it's for transparency in the fandom. You can all see how "horribly" I behaved here and you can see who violated the pact we made to be kind and decent to each other. It was not me.

If I have hurt anyone other than the three people involved in this - please reach out to me. I am happy to talk to you, happy to listen, and will apologize if I hurt you. I assure you, it was never my intent and I am as flawed as anyone else. Could I make mistakes? Of course. But if you think I'm going to apologize to vile bullies, my grace towards them has long expired.

I AM ADAMANTLY TELLING EVERYONE NOT TO SEND HATE THEIR WAY. But to be clear, I don't control anyone but myself. Some in the fandom think I have the magic ability to control people. It's about time to take responsibility for YOUR actions. You don't get hate because of me; you get hate because of your behavior. If anons get that bad, turn them off. The same way I have had to BECAUSE OF YOU. It's a 2-way street - and I HAVE NOT had an ongoing campaign against you for damn near a year. ONE POST. And I have not had my blog taken down because I've never done to you what you've done to me. This has gone on long enough.

FULL CONVERSATION

Have at it.

[healthcares09012]

iGenics: A Game-Changer for My Eye Health!

For years, I've struggled with minor but persistent eye strain. Long days staring at computer screens left me with blurry vision and headaches by the evening. While I considered getting glasses, I also hoped to find a more natural way to support my eye health. That's when I discovered iGenics, a vision supplement generating a lot of buzz online.

Intriguing Ingredients and Scientific Backing

The first thing that grabbed my attention about iGenics was its focus on scientifically proven ingredients. The write-up mentioned a unique blend including lutein, zeaxanthin, and other essential vitamins and minerals. These, according to the information provided, were specifically chosen for their vision-boosting properties and ability to combat oxidative stress in the eyes. While I'm no scientist, seeing this emphasis on research gave me confidence that iGenics wasn't just another fad supplement.

Easy to Swallow, Easy to Remember

Let's be honest, sometimes taking supplements can feel like a chore. In the past, I've abandoned regimens because of complicated dosing schedules or capsules that were difficult to swallow. Thankfully, iGenics comes in a convenient, easy-to-swallow form. This made incorporating it into my daily routine a breeze. No more scrambling for water or forcing down giant pills – iGenics makes taking care of your eyes as simple as possible.

Real People, Real Results

One of the things that convinced me to try iGenics was the section featuring testimonials from real users. Reading about their positive experiences with improved vision and reduced eye strain was truly inspiring. It felt great to see that others had found success with this supplement, and it gave me hope that it might work for me too.

A Blend of Resources: Text and Video

iGenics caters to different learning styles by offering a variety of resources. The website provides detailed written articles that delve deep into the science behind the product. Additionally, for those who prefer a more visual approach, there are video resources available as well. I appreciated having this flexibility, as I could choose the format that best suited my needs and learning preferences.

Seeing a Difference, Feeling the Benefits

It's important to note that I didn't experience a miraculous overnight improvement in my vision. However, after consistent use for a few weeks, I did start to notice a difference. The eye strain that used to plague me by the end of the workday became less frequent and intense. My vision also felt sharper and more focused throughout the day. While iGenics may not replace the need for glasses in severe cases, for those looking for a natural way to support their eye health, it's a product worth considering.

Overall, I'm impressed with iGenics and the positive impact it's had on my eye health. The easy-to-use format, focus on natural ingredients, and real user experiences make it a standout option in the vision supplement market. If you're looking for a way to safeguard your eyesight and reduce digital eye strain, I highly recommend giving iGenics a try.tunesharemore_vert

[retphienix]

Considering just how much I adore the characters and dialogue in Persona 5, it's a bit surprising how... unimpressed I am with the actual dialogue system in place. Or a specific part of it at least.

The decision to have your dialogue choices have no "meaningful" impact outside of Extremely Obvious Moments (Romance or friendship rank 10, choosing bad ends early) is entirely okay with me- contrary to the implication of the saying, "Illusion of choice" is not a bad thing all the time.

Sometimes the point of the choice is what You get out of it as a player melding with your character, not the A B C dialogue tree or the ending points that robustly and completely reflect the decision you made.

So my disappointment with the dialogue /System/ is not a lack of 900 endings and a billion call backs to every line of dialogue I chose.

It's the consequences the devs DID choose to include for dialogue because it honestly just makes the whole thing feel mediocre the second you realize what it is.

I went through P5 blind as hell, but the SECOND I found out exactly what the dialogue was doing, the entire interaction became so much less rewarding and immersive and I quickly began pulling up dialogue guides because it just feels cheap otherwise.

Well, maybe "so much less rewarding" is an overstatement.

I went from tackling every interpersonal moment as if I was in Joker's shoes, or following my understanding of the characters to confront the various issues- to just- playing a video game quiz where I have to look up the right answer every time Joker's dialogue appeared because it's sometimes unclear since someone arbitrarily got to decide what was best despite multiple options sounding great.

It's "gamey" where I'd much prefer it not be and the arguably intended effect (displaying different parts of yourself to properly support different people) falters when so much of the writing would equally support said characters- but the devs picked One to be correct.

In most story situations your choices have no purpose beyond melding you with Joker- letting you settle in as the voice he will be putting out into the world- and then to consistently reinstate that one-ness as the story progresses- basic protag dialogue stuff- nothing to see here.

A+

Perhaps I'm forgetting an instance where a story dialogue box had a "correct" answer that rewarded social stats while the others didn't offer alternative social stat rewards- thus forcing you to either break your immersion to Play Game or follow your understanding of the characters into the ground without even knowing- but I don't recall this so I'm spitballing nonsense there.

MY issue is the whole confidant dialogue deal, it just doesn't feel like an adequate test of your understanding of the characters most of the time AND the form of the punishment feels just fucking bad for keeping me interested in continuing blind- hence why I started just using a dialogue guide for confidants despite keeping my playthrough blind.

You can get the "correct" (most character affinity) options most of the time by just following your gut, but the exact second you make a mistake you are subject to the lamest punishment possible- wasting your time in a game that has a constant time limit.

Like what's the deal with that, I really feel like something could have been done to avoid that.

When you confront a confidant moment blind it's great!

Literally, choosing the wrong options still feels great because it feels like a genuine conversation between the two involved and like even if you fumbled your words you were genuine and the two of them grew closer because of it!

The game does not agree.

The narrative does! But the mechanics do not.

The writing is on point and only has 1 end goal in mind so the writing is perfectly laid out to allow you to fumble and for things to work out- but the game mechanics are waiting around the corner with a bat to kneecap you for not doing things perfectly.

As I said though, it's "generally" easy to "read" the right answers to these encounters. Generally.

As in not always.

As sometimes the answer that speaks most to you is one the devs arbitrarily decided gets less social points because THEY prefer THIS answer instead.

And as alluded to, if you make too many of these mistakes then you are doomed to waste a part of a day "hanging out" which is a non-narrative-progressing version of a confidant meet up that exists purely to waste your time and give you the social points you would have gotten if you read the dev's mind earlier (or used a guide).

Look, tbh, I'm nearly a year divorced from when I beat P5R for the first time (ALREADY?! Jeez.) and my mind's dwelling on it as a whole a lot because I wouldn't mind finally going for that perfect run but I can't "exactly" because my save file is trapped on broken hardware for now yada yada yada

I just wanted to ramble about P5 and then what came to mind was how annoying I find the punishment for confidant dialogue to be- namely- because it REALLY doesn't feel like it's written in a way that warrants there being a fail state to begin with.

Like you can't chat with Ryuji at Confidant rank 3 and piss him off and end the conversation. The game isn't written like that!

Every dialogue tree ends with the same general vibe- and yet- the devs decided to arbitrarily pick one path as their favorite and then punish you for not going down that route.

THAT is my issue, because it feels like no punishment is necessary and yet they implemented one.

I'd prefer to be more genuine with my confidants and not punished for doing so- thus subtly encouraging me to be less genuine and more guide-heavy.

That's all.

Also today years old when I found out the chalk is RNG. That is dumb lmao

That's literally free social points that you have to save scum if you want. The game isn't SO strict that you need them, but the game is still rather demanding so why even implement RNG like that?

Ah well.

Good game.

[thcophagy]

it was probably not his best idea to consistently tease frankie with his light-hearted jokes when she was so gullible, it was simply too cute to watch her fumble with her explanation and then pout at the realisation he was only messing around. it'd be a lie to say it didn't stroke his ego to elicit such responses, it made him feel smart, powerful even, maybe messing with a drunk girl didn't require the very height of intelligence but oz took confidence boosts wherever he could. it'd be quicker to head back inside if it was simply the cold that was bothering her, then again, they both knew she had other things on her mind, even if they weren't as sordid as oz's were. "it'll be warmer, sure" it'd be nice to get out of the cold, his coat was currently underneath her ass and while he didn't regret his gentlemanly offer, the biting wind was surely taking its toll against the thin material of his shirt. "if you're cold, we could just head back inside but..." his narrowed eyes scanned across her face for a moment while trying to determine how eager she was to get back to his, as even if he wasn't willing to let things move any further physically, it might not be a bad idea to at least let her hang out at his for a while. "if you really want to come back to mine, i guess i can make like a thief and steal you for a little while." it was entirely possible than while he was considering the notion of having to turn her down when they arrived back to his place, she might not want anything of the sort, or rather, might not be ready to give herself to him in that way after such a short time of knowing each other. he had completely forgotten that while it was normal for him to find himself in these short-lived, passionate but ultimately destined-to-fail relationships with women, not everyone worked as quickly as him. he saw relationships as a way to get inspiration for his writing, his way of doing that happened to be running at them headfirst with no real thought, relying simply on instinct and emotion, then again, maybe doing things differently would provide a different, more interesting outcome. "do you want to tell them you're heading out, at least? just so they don't worry?" he was always hyper-aware of people's perception of him, especially since he tried very hard to cultivate a very specific image and stealing a drunk girl from her friends wasn't counterintuitive, but it wasn't exactly positive either.

navigating things at this point felt tricky, like one wrong move or the wrong choice of words might scare him off. now that she'd had enough time to become invested, and especially now that they'd shared a fair few kisses, frankie couldn't just let their interaction end here, knowing that she'd be dwelling on it for months to come, kicking herself for ruining what could've been a magical night. she couldn't come off too strong, or else he'd think she was desperate— at the same time, she didn't want to act too nonchalant, either, because who would want to sleep with someone that wasn't all that into them? not that that's where frankie foresaw the night heading for them. realistically, she knew she wasn't mentally ready for that milestone, though her body was very clearly yearning for it, and she wasn't confident in her ability to stick to her boundaries should he try and initiate something. going home with him wasn't the smartest idea, for many reasons, but drunk frankie wasn't capable of accepting that the way sober frankie would've been able to. "mmhmm," she assured him of her enjoyment, feeling the same sort of comforting drowsiness she got after thanksgiving dinner that was in complete contrast to the chilly night air and the dirty curb they were currently sat on. they could've been sat in the middle of a landfill, and she still would've felt like she was floating on cloud 9 as long as oz was there to kiss her. "you do?" hearing him reciprocate her enjoyment had her beaming with pride, so giddy from the puppy-love that she felt as though she could've passed out on the spot. sure, the physical satisfaction of kissing and touching was enticing, but the simple comfort of being close to someone, the elation of knowing that you're truly desired by someone that you desire as well, that was what frankie truly craved. she'd become adept at masking that need for romantic connection, always insisting she was too busy for relationships, or even hook-ups, but when everything she'd been dreaming of in another person was being dangled over her head, she couldn't help but jump to try and reach it. "oh... that's good." she'd begun toying with his hair, twisting her fingers around the curls and probably ruining whatever hairstyle he'd been going for. "no!" the joke was lost on her at first, sitting back up with a look of panic so he could see that wasn't her intention. "no, not at all! it's just cold, and..." once it dawned on her that he was just messing with her, she began to trail off, her fraught expression melting into a sheepish smile. "i thought it might be warmer... at your place." that subtle rejection felt like a punch to the gut, the wind swiftly knocked from her lungs as frankie just blinked for a moment or two, trying to keep her mind from spiraling into a pit of despair. he never said he didn't like her, just that he didn't want to take her away from her friends. "oh, no, they're not my friends! i don't even really know most of them, actually... they're my roommate's friends," she was quick to explain, hoping with every fiber of her being that she could somehow convince him to spend more time with her so she didn't have to end her night being ignored, painfully lonely though surrounded by people. "and i don't think they even really noticed i was there, so i'm sure they won't mind!"

[bestsmmpanelworld]

3 Mistakes in Social Media Marketing That May Come Back to Haunt You

Picture this.

You request a thing on the web and it requires much more investment to show up than it ought to. Furthermore, a couple of things are absent in the bundle. Disappointed, you take to the merchant's Facebook channel to voice your interests and hope to be redressed.

Also, in spite of continued nudging, there is finished radio quiet at the opposite end.

best smm panel

The experience didn't feel significantly better right? You think perhaps this business couldn't care less about you - how you confided in it to give you a decent encounter and it broke this trust all things considered. So you do what any baffled individual would - you promise at absolutely no point ever to arrange anything from here in the future and hit the "in contrast to" button.

For web-based entertainment specialists, there is an illustration to be learned here. A web-based entertainment promoting system can ultimately flounder with a couple unlikes and negative remarks.

As an entrepreneur, virtual entertainment allows you restricted opportunities to establish a decent connection. How you make the most of these possibilities could make your business or break it.

The evidence is in these details:

71% of clients who have a positive online entertainment experience with a brand are probably going to suggest it - Diplomat

As per a review, scarcely 20% of web-based entertainment posts barely produce any profound response via online entertainment - Havas Media

42% of Twitter clients hope to be anticipate that a business should answer their requests in something like 60 minutes - Minister

As a web-based entertainment advertiser, the most ideal way to further develop your virtual entertainment system is to initially find the reason why it flounders in any case. Here are a few slip-ups that you could have neglected:

1 - Being thoughtless with negative input

In the event that you have at any point managed a sales rep, you wouldn't anticipate that he should become cautious when you have a protest or be thoughtless about your interests.

So how could your devotees via web-based entertainment?

Remember, at whatever point anybody criticizes you via web-based entertainment, your other supporters can see them. Furthermore, they will be as intrigued to perceive how you answer.

For organizations, this is a nail-gnawing situation. Yet, it is absolutely avoidable. How it's done:

Put somebody equipped in the driver's seat: Experienced experts like online entertainment specialists will adopt an impartial strategy to the cynicism and know that being imprudent about it fills compelling reason need.

For instance, they know that being inert to remarks like "your administration sucks! I need my cash back" doesn't actually help anybody. An eloquent answer then again, helps both your standing and pacifies rising attitudes.

To represent, your answer ought to resemble, "We are grieved that you had a terrible encounter. Could you at any point tell us precisely what occurred so we can offer to set things straight?" Along these lines, you are bound to ease baffled clients.

Perk up to makes reference to by utilizing on the web apparatuses: It's not difficult to disregard something you don't experience consistently. Remarks via virtual entertainment are something very similar. You can't follow all of them. Nobody inboxes them to you and there is no assurance that devotees will label you.

To monitor all remarks, you can utilize instruments like Google Alarms which tell you when anybody utilizes your watchwords on their virtual entertainment fields.

2 - Utilizing web-based entertainment the board apparatuses to plan same posts on all stages

Web-based entertainment the board apparatuses permit advertisers to post similar substance on a few virtual entertainment stages immediately. Numerous organizations use it to plan posts. What's more, it has worked for them as well, saving the time they need to zero in on different errands.

Be that as it may, customarily, individuals utilize these instruments as an easy route to plan same posts on a few stages. It's a languid strategy and shows that it doesn't matter at all to you how your substance is gotten by crowds.

Remember, what works on Facebook or Twitter will not be guaranteed to deal with LinkedIn. Each web-based entertainment stage was made in view of explicit interest groups. A 140 person tweet, for instance, will not agree with LinkedIn crowds who anticipate more exhaustive posts.

Use devices to plan upgraded posts

To take advantage of social sharing apparatuses, further develop your web-based entertainment procedure first. Carve out opportunity to find out about the interesting capacities of every stage. Restrict yourself to a few stages in the event that that is the stuff. For instance, posts that are wealthy in symbolism are more effective on Google+.

Hootsuite and HubSpot are two of the numerous virtual entertainment the board apparatuses that you can use to robotize posts and even see which channels are driving the most commitment. Notwithstanding computerized content sharing, these stages additionally offer free web-based social showcasing instructional classes that can assist you with taking full advantage of every stage like advancing your posts for various online entertainment channels.

3 - Holding back on friendly offer buttons

Entrepreneurs ordinarily save their best happy for their sites. Content like enlightening online journals, for instance, lay out them as specialists in their specialties.

It likewise allow guests an opportunity to remain longer on these sites. Maybe they might want to glance around to see what else is on offer?

Sadly, you could highlight content that everybody couldn't imagine anything better than to share - yet in the event that guests have no method for sharing it, it won't get the openness you are searching for.

To make this work for you:

Make your social sharing work on portable: Insights show that more than 15% of tweet specifies are from the tweet fastens that are implanted on your site. This likewise demonstrates to show that individuals share a ton on cell phones.

Apparatuses to make social offer buttons for WordPress: You can utilize online devices to make tweaked social offer buttons for various crowds.

While choosing fitting modules, a decent guideline is to choose those that permit you more opportunity in the sort of friendly offer buttons you can make for various stages.

For instance, to further develop commitment with versatile crowds you can advise your engineers to download WordPress module instruments like Straightforward Offer Buttons Snake to make modified share buttons for your web or portable crowd and add them to each of your virtual entertainment posts. Another module apparatus is Addthis.

Have a social spending plan: On the off chance that anything merits doing, it merits doing well. Apparatuses like Straightforward Offer Button Viper are allowed to download and utilize. Be that as it may, if you truly need to make your portion buttons sparkle, it's ideal to have a spending plan for itself and use it to buy their ace or premium bundles. These proposition more customization choices and retail for around $10 to $100 dollars.

Select shareable substance shrewdly: to exploit virtual entertainment, your substance should be something that individuals would need to share. Picture rich posts, for instance, are shared significantly more than text-based content.

To delineate, consider infographics. Concentrates on show that infographics are shared and "loved" via web-based entertainment multiple times more than some other kind of happy.

Wrapping Up

Use apparatuses to keep yourself alarm to negative remarks and depend on proficient assistance. Try not to take the sluggish way out by dumping the auto posting methodology. Focus on the sort of satisfied you post, how your supporters share content on your social foundation of decision and upgrade it for versatile to extend your range.

[pale-eastern-star]

gain·say /ˌɡānˈsā/ deny or contradict (a fact or statement). --- CW: Suicidal ideation --

================================================

Kurenai woke to a hammering in her head and an ache that reached from the small of her back to the nape of her neck and as far as her meager calve muscles. This was going to be another sun with fever, the third sun after her tattoos went cold and dark. Ushu's aether was gone.

Why is it so bad this time? Because of the quality of draconic aether? That has to be it.

"I believe that it restored you in a way that no aether ever has, it is as if you are ill again for the first time isn't it?"

You are proposing that I was more alive with this aether than any spoken's aether?

"Mayhap, you must needs visit your friends with medical and aetheric expertise, they could say better than I."

Kurenai didn't have a solid response to Ashmennon, so she turned onto her opposite side, away from Gravy, it did nothing to restore comfort.

Gravy's bed on the Void Spider wasn't kingly, but Kurenai was small enough that it was no problem for her to share it with her Elezen lover. However Kurenai knew that the most comfortable bed on all the star would be no comfort in this moment. This was the sort of sick that kept you from rest at night and action during the day. The sort of full body ache that pulled at your limbs and back and chest so that no moment of breath and stillness was comfort. Instead there was restless anxiety and wide-eyed wakefulness.

Worse, this was the moment when the monster in her head came out. She could feel it gnawing behind her eyes already, and while she had long experience with its growing presence it was only now that she realized that Ushu's aether had kept her strong enough to push it away. She'd had tears and doubts but not once had the monster come like this, not since she'd had X'khal'a and Teo and Gravy and consistency. She had not fallen so far like this for a long, long while.

So it was with a pang of grief that she finally realized in the absence of that vitality, mired in the lingering shadow, that Ushu's gifts had not been without effect beyond the dragon's memories. That she had in fact been very, very stupid.

It made her alive with certainty and confidence. Sure of herself even if some things bothered her or some moments brought tears. She had been impulsive and brash. Stupid.

What have you done? You ended things with yourself and X'khal'a, over what? His work? You leapt with enthusiasm into every dangerous opportunity and acted so thoughtless and brash that Teo doesn't want to see you anymore. He saw the real you and was repulsed, who wouldn't be? Ally will see the real you too, in fact you should show her, it's only right that she knows how worthless I am and better off she'd be without me. Ushu too, when he discovers that I offered his aether to Lif, on a whim. What a complete idiot fool.

Kurenai's eyes were watering already as she prepared to hold herself in rigid silence, she didn't want Gravy to wake and see her upset like this. This monster wasn't the sort that could be shushed away with whispers that it was alright, not now that it was on her.

The loathing and self hatred that was the monster became a corporeal thing, it reached into her chest and gut and dug its claws in till her heart hammered wildly, even though she wasn't moving at all but laying upon her aching side with gritted teeth and a sightless gaze so watered by tears the bed beneath was soaked.

Ashmennon had not yet been with her to see a moment like this, and the ferocity was so great that it cowed him to silence. The monster latched onto that distant hesitance; Ash was right to recoil. Smart to recoil.

I deserve it. I'm troublesome, it was only a matter of moons before I would fail like this, because I am the worst. I am sorry you are stuck with me. This creature that can't help but burn down everything around her and be so sure it was right even as she burns to ash.

Silence. I should have died in Doma, the monster opined, There are so many that have died for me that deserved to live far more than I ever did. Gravy will know soon that I don't deserve her either, in fact I should show her this is true. Hurt her badly so she knows, hasten the end because it will end anyroad. Leave AetherFlow. I am not needed or wanted. Ushu will not find me again, no one will.

Nothing.

Ash, if I break the working, can you take this body?

Finally Ashmennon spoke, angry, "Kurenai stop. If you do not I will push you to the depths and take us to that infirmary where I will have us watched until this darkness passes from you. Do not allow your thoughts near that again."

Kurenai by now had become quite accustomed to quieting her inner voice so that she did not speak to Ashmennon, so she did this now, if only because the fear of the others knowing what she was really like, that she hated herself this much, was greater than her desire to test her dark reflection's threat.

"Kurenai, none of this is true. You must tell yourself this."

Kurenai didn't know how. What she did know how to do was hold herself in rigid agony so tightly that her jaw throbbed and shoulders knotted. Not a single sound escaped her beyond the barest whisper of an inhale when she could no longer fight the need. Ashmennon was still speaking to her but his words had begun to evade all comprehension.

All of the thoughts were true, all of them, and no part of herself could stand against the monster because no part of her even wanted to try.

Not a single part.

[eskumii]

I don't know if you're fine with wlw content but if you're not then you can make the reader neutral gender of course. Can I request a Koyuki x reader where the both of them are cuddling with each other trying to get warmth due to how cold it is for them? Headcanon please?

soft yandere!koyuki (kny) hcs + how she reacts to cuddling for warmth

TITLE: " YEARNING HEART " — navi.

A/N: this contains huge manga spoilers, specifically in regards to akaza's backstory! #justice4koyuki :") tysm for the req, flower!! 🌸 these got kind of angsty (??) i went and reread akaza's backstory so i could characterize koyuki properly and woo that pain cut deep again LOL. she's like barely yandere in this but i tried, she's just too sweet. not proofread.

PAIRING: soft yandere!koyuki x caretaker!reader

CHARACTERS: koyuki (16), reader (17)

☆ three months ago, koyuki's father, keizo, saved you from your almost inevitable fate of getting beaten to death in a back alley after you had ran away from an arranged marriage. though you had nothing to offer him in return for his heroism, you still had your skills as a practiced housewife that you knew would be highly desirable to anyone. and after finding out about his sick daughter, you pleaded with him to let you be of service to her.

☆ keizo was eager to accept your help. you found out he was the master of a dojo with no students of his own, which forced him to look for work during the day in order to provide for both koyuki and himself. but just like that, you took a load off his shoulders by dedicating everything you had to caring for his daughter. he might've been more grateful to you than you were to him, if that were possible.

☆ to be honest, the first few weeks of caring for koyuki were kind of awkward. not that it really surprised you—you were a stranger who suddenly forced your way into her life with the intention of being her caretaker. it's quite an intimate position, so you were respectful of her space until she got a bit more comfortable with you, which didn't take long at all, really.

☆ although koyuki was a little shy at first, she warmed up to you very quickly. maybe it's because of the fact that you're also a girl, or maybe you're just someone who's naturally easy to get along with. either way, koyuki often finds herself confiding in you with everything. she might even say that she was developing a crush on you; you're such a pretty young lady and she's surprised that you aren't married yet or at least looking for a suitor. from what she's noticed, you're not interested in any of that in the slightest. somehow that makes her happy, as bad as it sounds.

☆ a few of your duties consist of helping her bathe, comb and style her hair appropriately, dress her, and obviously make sure she's fed and takes her medicine (which she hates the taste of). although koyuki insists that she can be independent in all of these things, she doesn't protest when you help her out anyway. sitting inside all day can be boring, so most of the time you'll try to entertain her by reading her books or old scrolls and teaching her how to make origami, if she feels well enough to (even if she doesn't, she tries to push through it because she likes spending time with you).

☆ you often make her little origami hearts and slip them onto her meal trays; ironically, things like that make her heart flutter. she doesn't know why, but your nurturing nature makes her wonder what it'd be like if you were her actual wife, making her food and giving her little origami hearts in a different context. she gets embarrassed when you catch her daydreaming, even though you would never guess that they're about you. she despises her sickness more than anything and often wonders what it would be like if she had met you in another life. the world is cruel, isn't it?

☆ the day you open up about your past to koyuki is also the day she single-handedly falls in love with you. you're strong. you're not afraid to stand up for what you believe in, even if it means losing your family and a chance to be wealthy through an arranged marriage. she admires you from the bottom of her heart and that feeling only grows stronger and stronger with each passing day she dwells in your presence. she looks up to you—more than a friend and more than her caretaker.

☆ sometimes koyuki will start crying, seemingly at random. she apologizes constantly about things that don't bother you at all ("i'm sorry you have to keep changing my clothes during the night. :( you must be tired." "i'm sorry you had to clean up the tea i spilled." "i'm sorry you aren't able to go to school/make friends because of me.") she worries so much about how you're feeling that she doesn't take her own condition into account. you'll hold her in your arms and let her hair loose so you can run your fingers through while she sniffles.

☆ you'll attempt to console her by saying that none of that matters to you and it's your job to do things like that for her anyway. that you want to do this for her. eventually she stops crying but she somehow always looks unsatisfied by your responses. were you only doing it for her because of her father? even though koyuki does apologize with sincerity, she loves the fact that you fret over her and that she's who your attention is on all the time. she knows it's selfish but so is her sickness; no one knows when it will overcome her, so she doesn't really have time to waste with being selfless with her feelings.

☆ with keizo working for most of the day, you and koyuki are often left alone but you're familiar enough with your surroundings to cope. one day, however, keizo doesn't come back when he usually does. winter season is quickly approaching and temperatures are beginning to drop as the sun goes down with them. usually keizo took care of chopping the wood for a fire but since he's not around, there's nothing for you to burn. koyuki can't handle extreme weather very well, so you have to think of something quickly.

☆ conflicted, you debate on whether or not you should try chopping some firewood yourself. you've never picked up an axe in your life so, naturally, you wouldn't know how to wield it properly, either. plus, you shouldn't leave koyuki by herself; you would be devastated if something ever happened to her while she was in your care. she's become someone important to you just within the few short months of knowing her.

☆ you navigate to koyuki's bedroom where extra blankets are neatly folded in her closet. you take them to where she lies on her futon in the foyer, a warm, wet towel on her forehead. you take it off and place it into the bowl of water by her head before piling the blankets on top of her. it seems that the weight woke her up, as she's now staring at you with those half-lidded, pink eyes of hers. you always thought they were really pretty.

☆ "[y/n]-san?" koyuki mumbles. "it's cold..." she nestles deeper into the blankets but even with the extras, it must not be enough. you frown and ponder on what to do, but koyuki beats you to it. "do you think you could m-maybe... lay with me? i'm sure it would be warmer if we stay close together."

☆ it's not a bad idea. you carefully lift the blankets up and slide underneath, laying so close that both your arms are touching. neither you or koyuki say anything for a long while—the light from the sun fades almost completely in the time that you spend underneath the blankets with her. a chill settles on the wooden floors of the dojo and just as you're about to fall asleep, a trembling voice awakes you. koyuki's been working up the courage to say something, anything to break the silence.

☆ "[y/n]-san, i like-" koyuki blurts. "i..." her voice seems to falter and you look at her in confusion, silently urging her to continue. koyuki's conscious halts her confession dead in its tracks. was this the right thing for her to do? what if you didn't feel the same way? what if she gets in the way of you finding a real spouse? her fears are rational but her feelings towards you aren't less than.

☆ "hm? what's wrong, koyuki-chan? are you still cold?" you pull the blanket tighter around the both of you and snake an arm around her shoulders. she stiffens like a two-by-four wood plank under the close proximity, and you get the impression that she's uncomfortable. still, you have to be close in order to transfer your body heat, so you press closer until you're both flush against each other, faces just inches away.

☆ a shoji panel at the front of the dojo suddenly slides open, startling both you and koyuki. you try to move away in order to not project the image that you're doing something inappropriate, but a warm hand wraps around your wrist to stop you. you look back at koyuki in shock, but the panic that's blazing in your chest is quickly expelled by the gentle gleam in her eyes.

☆ "please stay, [y/n]-san," she whispers, face flushed red as she fiddles with a strand of her hair. "i like... being this close to you." surely you can't reject her now.

☆ now it's your turn to blush. you hesitantly lay down again and scoot closer to her, wrapping the blanket back around the two of you. it's warm, hot even, and koyuki takes the initiative by wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling close. she's smiling bashfully but she really looks like she's enjoying herself; more than when you read to her or taught her origami. slowly, you rest your head on top of hers and smile, too.

☆ "ah, there you two are. sorry for getting back so late, i'll go-" keizo pauses as he catches sight of both you and koyuki bundled up in a blanket with her face buried into your neck. his eyes soften and he smiles knowingly at you, who's trying to hide under the blanket, before quietly exiting to chop some wood for a fire.

☆ but, honestly, with the way your arms are tightly embracing her, koyuki doesn't seem to need it.

[s-brant]

Pirates and Princesses (8/8)

(gif: @beccs) (PART SEVEN) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: JJ must confront his childhood trauma when returning home for the first time since his dad went to jail and prevent it from sabotaging his new relationship. Meanwhile, something sinister happens at the Chateau that brings Y/N face to face with her grief over John B’s death.

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, parent/child abuse, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, grief, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of Tokens! This one has a little bit of everything in it, but it also has detailed scenes about JJ and his dad, so proceed with caution if you’re easily triggered by that topic. The love you guys show this fic warms my heart so much, so thanks to anyone who stuck with this story until this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Now that she has been sentenced to both punishments, one as a consequence of the fight with Kacey and the other as a consequence of the stunt she pulled with JJ to break out of ISS, Y/N can confidently say that out of school suspension is superior to in-school suspension by a long shot. Instead of sitting in a humid room with Alec for the duration of multiple school days, she's allowed to stay home, go out surfing, and do whatever she wants in lieu of doing classwork.

She promised herself not to make it a habit, promising the invisible presence of John B that she likes to pretend follows her around that she will never get herself into trouble again, but she sees no problem in enjoying her suspension while it lasts.

For the first few days of her suspension, JJ skipped school to spend it with her. Their memories of the conversation they had at three in the morning on Sunday were fuzzy, but not missing entirely. She noticed a difference in his behavior for the first few hours after they woke up under the tree together for the second time in one week. It wasn't a difference in their relationship or how he treated her, it was a difference in him.

He was quieter than usual as they cleaned up cans of beer and tossed them into the recycling, sending pictures to Kie while she was in class after she made them promise not to throw them in the trash. Rather than cracking jokes or making casual conversation with her, JJ made his way around the yard with the recycling bin in his hands and his head in the clouds. It disappeared as the day progressed, but for a little while, he wasn't completely there.

Today, he went into school instead of ditching to spend extra time with her in between shifts at work and time spent with their friends. Since they can't exceed three consecutive absences without a doctor’s note and he doesn't own a printer or laptop to forage the header from a doctor's office, he had no choice but to part from her this morning.

He bites his lip to contain his smug facial expression at the recollection of her wake up call for him. The hand holding his locker door open for him to lean on in the midst of his not-so-wholesome thoughts of her squeezes the metal hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

The curtains weren't shut all the way when they fell asleep before midnight last night, allowing a shaft of sunlight to shine in and land on his face. But that wasn't what woke him up from the dream he was having. In fact, the reality he opened his eyes to was a hell of a lot better than any dream he remembered.

Most of his memory of those moments spent suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness consisted of feeling her pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then her hands rubbing up and down his waist to slip lower and lower until they settled on the waistband of his underwear. It was then that he woke to find her looking up at him for permission from where she peppered kisses along his chest.

Their eyes met right as she kissed the edge of his nipple with this pleading, needy look that he took pride in causing without actively attempting to. She woke up on the brink of coming undone from a pleasant—to put it tamely—dream about him. With a glimpse at the time displayed on the alarm clock, it didn't take much for her to roll over to wake him up.

It ended with her beneath the sheet, finishing what she started Friday afternoon until he was clutching the pillow beneath his head in the midst of his orgasm. It happened so fast, a fault of how hot he found it to wake up to her wanting him so badly, but it felt slower than it truly was in the early morning haze of exhaustion they felt.

The memory as he relives it is as heady as it felt the first time around. He sees it in fractions; her eyes looking up at his, warm palms finding the familiar planes of his muscular body with the exploratory touch of someone who's never traveled it before, and the intense sensations he felt at the end...It's easy for him to stand here and lose himself in it. Despite the class he has to go to, he bargains with himself for one more second spent in the paradise of his memories before he has to come back to reality.

Reality, as his shitty luck would have it, comes in the form of a familiar feminine voice chirping from behind his back as he replays his morning bliss.

"It's good to see you're alive and well, Maybank."

He decides, based on who he knows he'll see when he turns around, that he might invest in a sharpie to write "Bang head here" on the inside of his locker door for instances like these where he'd rather suffer brain damage than speak to someone he can't stomach the presence of.

When he turns to see Kacey with one arm still stretched to hold his locker open, he doesn't bother concealing the genuine reaction from his face for the sake of her feelings. Any care he had for her and her feelings was thrown to the wind as soon as she decided she could steal from and put her hands on his girl last week. However, after a second of thought, a condescending smirk finds its way to his face.

He says, jerking his chin to vaguely gesture at her bruised up face, "Purple really suits your complexion. It makes your eyes pop, don't you think?"

Though the swelling of her black eye has deflated in the days since the fight that’ll soon tally up to a week, the verbal jab hits right where it intended to if the light leaving her eyes tells him anything. She bounces back after a second, though, ever the relentless pest they've come to see her as.

She offers a sickeningly sweet, yet fake smile to mirror the one gracing his striking features and spins so her back meets the locker beside his, allowing herself to invade his space further.

A collection of Y/N's stickers decorates the inside of his locker door that he briefly entertained the idea of designating as a place to bang his head against. They range from girly, glittery ones to those he willingly picked when she gave him the choice. Whenever they're at his locker together, she sticks one on the inside, and the evidence of the habit catches Kacey's wandering eyes.

Her fingertips brush against the surface of the sticker-covered metal while she ignores his protest of, "Can you not touch my stuff?" to inspect them. Since one of the Pogues in particular is famous for her endless supply of stickers, her expression sours at the thought of the girl responsible for them.

She spares him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye as she continues to analyze the sticker collection against his instructions not to, asking, "Why weren't you at the bonfire?" A failed attempt at a seductive look in his direction makes him fight not to roll his eyes. "After how last year's ended, I thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."

JJ doesn't bother to take a second to think things through before he reaches to slam the door closed with her hand still outstretched inside of it. Watching her pull it away just in time to avoid jamming it in the locker probably pleases him more than it should, but he can't help it. His hand catches on the edge of the door, halting it in place right before it closes where her hand previously rested.

She doesn't look too happy with him when he opens the door with no harm done except for the drop of her stomach when he initially pretended to swing it shut on her bruised knuckles. She didn't get many shots in on Y/N when they fought, but apparently it was enough.

He doesn't bother with the fake niceties she's giving him after the disrespect she showed him, his friends, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. The fact that she thinks she has any right to breathe in his direction, let alone flirt with him, after she stole JB's bandana is criminal. 'Cause not only did she mess with Y/N, she messed with John B on multiple levels, and his loyalty to his best friend hasn't disappeared with death. Kie and Y/N told him everything she said about their departed friend in the locker room last Thursday.

But he's smart enough to know what'll hurt her more, so he doesn't go for the general scolding he imagined giving her in his head. Since he was told everything about the encounter in the locker room, he knows she's still holding their history together near and dear to her heart.

"We stayed home," he says, casual and cool as always, with added emphasis on the first word, "You know how it is, my girl doesn't like parties. Especially not ones with kooks."

Hook, line, and sinker.

She scoffs, "Your girl?"

Looking at her now, he wonders if she was always this stupid, or if this is a new development she's had in the year since he last spent more than a minute or two at a time with her. It’s easier to trick her than it was with Kie and Y/N a few days ago, and those poor girls flew into that trap like moths to a flame.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

The ire is visible in the way her face tenses up in places, her lips pressing together a little more firmly and her forehead creasing between the brows.

"Doesn't your, um, history bother her?" she asks, and he's gotta give her credit for being a sneaky little shit when given the chance. The girl takes every possible opening she can to strike for a potential weakness. "No offense, but you kinda get around."

He shrugs this time, deciding to drop his casual act and aim straight for the jugular.

"She likes having someone who knows how to fuck her right, actually, but I really appreciate the concern."

Much like Kie's reaction to their matching tattoos in the hot tub the other night, her jaw is unhinged to meet the unswept hallway floor they stand on. It makes him wish Y/N weren't suspended in order for her to see the gobsmacked reaction Kacey has to the harsh dismissal. Though he wouldn't want to incite an extra round of the Kacey vs Y/N WWE showdown by having her watch another girl flirt with him and essentially call him a slut upon rejection, he knows she'd get a kick out of it.

This one's for you, baby, he thinks with a quiet laugh to himself and turns his focus to the sticker collection she so lovingly crafted.

There are plenty of summer themed ones left over from the same pack he gifted her for her birthday with the surfboard sticker she used to tease him, as well as a newer genre of Valentine's Day stickers she started using the closer they grew since first getting together. They're mostly different colored candy hearts with corny phrases ranging from "U SXY THING" to the classic "BE MINE" and one printed with "ANGEL" on it—his favorite by far.

However, others are random ones from her endless stash built up over the years from birthdays and holidays deemed worthy enough by her dad to stop by Dollar Tree for a new pack, so the one he sets his attention on is likely meant for teachers or coaches to give to their students. The opportunity appears too good to be true to him when it clicks, but it isn't.

He peels the sticker off of the locker door, careful not to disturb the ones around it, and leans in closer to her to place it on the front of her tank top.

"Leave us alone or I won't stop her next time," JJ says lowly, past the point of civility, then backs away to slam his locker shut for real this time as his voice raises back to a normal volume, "And keep John B's name out of your mouth, got it?"

All she can do is look down at the sticker placed on her shirt with squinted eyes to try and read it while he walks off in the direction of his next class. It tears away from the fabric with a soft noise, and when she finally reads it, she rolls her eyes.

“Good Try!”

​​Walking out of school to see the Twinkie parked in the usual spot Y/N takes when she isn't suspended is a delightful treat he didn't know to expect after a rough day in class and his run in with Kacey. His head was hung low on his way to Kie's car to hitch a ride to his house before going home to the Chateau, since he had some things to pick up with his dad out of the picture for the near future, but then he heard her greet them.

JJ's body melts into hers upon contact, and he nearly pushes her up against the closed passenger side door of the van with how hard he hugs her. Though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, his dad has been living in his thoughts more than usual today. Ever since he texted him goodbye, he's been withdrawn inside of his head more and more, and after today's inconveniences, the rising anxiety of his plan to visit home has him two seconds from losing his mind.

Her eyes widen at his zeal, meeting Kie's concerned gaze from over the shoulder she rests her chin on. She stands with her keys swinging around her finger as she watches the couple embrace one another. In an answer to the silent question Y/N asks her in their stare, her lips mouth the words, "His dad," to her.

Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.

It began with his impromptu request to run away with her a few days ago and extended into his uncharacteristically reserved attitude the next morning that receded somewhat, but has yet to fully disappear. There is a part of her that's upset that he hasn't come to her to talk about it, to communicate the way they swore they would, yet she also knows it isn't that simple.

She has to remind herself that she knew what she was getting herself into with him. That's not to say that dating her must be a walk in the park for him, it isn't.

She knows based on the amount of times he had to hold her as she cried, or the time he curtailed her panic attack in this very parking lot, that she hasn't made it easy for him in the aftermath of John B's death. But it's because she knows how it feels that she has such patience with his communication issues.

It's not a conscious choice most times, it's an involuntary blockage preventing the words from being spoken no matter how desperately they long to be. They may have made a promise, but she won't chastise him for succumbing to the same pitfalls as her. It’d be hypocritical.

"Bad day?" she asks.

Her voice is tender with him, prodding gently for a clue as to why he pounced on her on sight. He sinks further into her arms at the sound and lets the sanctity of her touch sway him into submission. Everything about her sets him at ease, if only for a second. Her hand lifts the beat-up red hat from his head to allow the other to brush through his hair.

There's a hum of agreement that she feels vibrating through the center of his chest into hers, and her arms pull tighter around his shoulders in response. This time, when she looks up to see Kie there, she's waving a quick goodbye and setting off toward her car, clearly giving JJ the space he needs.

"We can go to the beach," she says softly, "I have a towel in the back of the van, we can just lay there and talk about it if you want."

The idea of her kind offer to him should add to the comfort he finds in her embrace. It should make him nod and whisper his gratitude to her for being the one person that knows him better than anyone, but it brings him back to the gloomy headspace he was in before seeing her.

It started as a minor distraction when he first arrived at school after carpooling with Kie. It followed him in the quieter moments, only making appearances when he wasn't distracted with more pressing matters. It began as that and built the closer the day came to ending. The sooner his inevitable visit back to his childhood home came, the more he lost himself in his fear, reverting back to a state of helplessness he now occupies with no small amount of shame.

His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.

"Can we stop somewhere on the way home first?"

The last place she expected him to drive the Twinkie is here.

As they made their way down each street, taking each turn necessary to bring them closer to the house he seldom let her go to over the course of their lifelong friendship, she felt her heart begin to race. And now, as the van rolls to a stop in the yard in front of his house, she has swallow back the lump in her throat at the sight of it.

She has only been here a few times.

The first time, she was seven years old.

It was a sweltering summer morning in the Outer Banks for her and John B as they set off to retrieve their friend after he missed their plans to meet up at the Chateau for a day of having fun, riding bikes, and playing on the boat. Pirates and Princesses was her favorite game to play with them because JJ would switch roles with her halfway through when she grew tired of being the damsel John B had to rescue from the most cruel and vicious Captain Jesse James Maybank.

The HMS Pogue would rock beneath his feet as he marched across the deck of the boat and took her place as the kidnapped Princess Routledge. He handed off his "sword" to her, a stick he found in the yard, and stood at the edge of the boat with his hands behind his back as though he were a tied up damsel in distress for her to hold captive. The sun setting behind them laid a picturesque backdrop that made the scene all the more vivid to their imaginative young minds.

The boat floated in the afternoon current as John B approached the pair with his best pretend face of worry for the fair Princess Maybank, who had the sharp sword of the pirate queen pressing into his throat with the threat of death should he have tried to escape.

Sometimes, she'd let John B advance on them and tie make believe rope around her wrists and ankles while he and Princess Maybank claimed their victory. Other times, they'd get backed up until the heels of her sneakers hung off the edge of the slippery deck. One move from her brother would have her yell something along the lines of not taking either of them alive, then she'd let her and JJ fall back into the marsh together with gleeful laughs infiltrating the humid air upon their return to the surface.

On the day he didn't show up, none of that happened. She and John B rode their bikes together along sidewalks until they pulled into a driveway marked with the address number he remembered from the other time he sought him out to play before.

Y/N didn't understand what they were hearing when they pushed their kickstands down and called out for their friend, but John B's little face blanched at the sound flooding out of the opened windows of the dilapidated yellow house. It was a combination of banging against the walls, glass shattering, and childlike shouts of frustration and pain. Her big brother placed himself in front of her protectively when the front door opened and smacked against the side of the house, but it wasn't his dad storming out of the house, it was JJ.

His eyes widened at the sight of the siblings standing there, and his heart dropped to his stomach at the realization that they heard it. Maybe not all of it, but based on how the girl peeking out around John B's shoulder looked at him, they heard some.

The van is parked in the exact same place their bikes once were, the exact place she and John B stood years ago when they were first confronted with the harsh reality about their best friend's home life, and he looks like he has fully backpedaled into the state of mind his childhood self inhabited. Even when he turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling engine sputter down in silence, he sits in the driver's seat with his lip drawn between his teeth in thought.

Yet as soon as she summons the courage to say something, he takes a deep breath and opens the door without a warning or the typical instruction for her to stay in the car. He doesn't tell her to follow him in, nor does he order her to stay out as he used to when his dad still lived inside. He gives her the choice to make on her own, and, when faced with the opportunity to support him or stay outside like the confused little girl she once was, she chooses the first option.

Her swift steps kick dirt up from the earth onto her ankles as she follows him out of the van to the front steps of the house. She tries not to make her concern for him as evident as it'd be without her intervention on her way up the porch, but it's impossible to erase every sign of it from her face.

It isn't a particularly special or scary house. It's a normal home that'd likely look more inviting if JJ were still living here to mow the lawn and tend to the household upkeep his father saddled him with since he was old enough to be put to work. But she knows better than to trust the street appeal. As he takes her hand to lead them through the threshold of the haunted structure, she is overcome with a sense of creeping trepidation that she can't shake.

"You're sure he isn't here?" she asks.

The entryway is crowded with stacks of mail his father wasn’t bothered to open, as well as empty cardboard boxes that once held cans of beer that are scattered, empty, in various places around the house. Her question is answered by the state of the rooms they breeze past in the direction of his bedroom, but she needed something to say to fill the silence. With them, they usually don’t feel uncomfortable not speaking to each other, but this feels different.

The way he stares out in front of him with his hand squeezing hers hard enough to cut off circulation unnerves her more than the tainted energy of the house itself. He isn't himself. He's a shell of the JJ they know and love, the JJ who is most comfortable tucked away in the safe walls of the Chateau with their friends, not here. If anything, how he is while he's here is the antithesis of his behavior while living with her.

Ever since John B died, he's practically moved in with her. When they're hidden away in her house without the reminders of his home life in sight, he's usually the caretaker of the relationship. It comes naturally to their dynamic, both with him being slightly older and his promise to take care of her, but everything is flipped here. It's an alternate reality for him, or, perhaps, actual reality smacking him in the face after a carefully constructed two months in utopia with her.

They come to a stop in front of his closed bedroom door.

"He's gone," he says, not even sparing a glance at her for reasons she can't decipher, "He texted me a few days ago to say goodbye."

With that, he turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open to reveal the bedroom she only saw one other time.

The second time, she was thirteen years old.

It was a Friday.

Since his dad was supposed to be at work, they stopped at his house on their way home from school exactly like they did today so he could share with their friends what he got from his cousin the night before. Being the good girl she was, she didn't even know what he was showing her when he dug it out of the backpack in the bottom of his closet.

Her brows furrowed at the ziploc bag, more specifically the contents inside of it. She was knelt down on the floor in front of the opened closet door with her shoulder pressed up against his to inspect it. The dried green cluster of a plant didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she couldn't help but ask him what the hell it was rather than react the way he knew the others would.

"What is it? It looks like dried up moss."

JJ laughed and pulled another bag with rolling papers and a grinder stowed inside.

"It's weed. My cousin Ricky gave me a discount since—"

He halted mid-sentence abruptly enough to startle her, his head turning in the direction of where he heard a trunk pulling up to the front of the house. Her stare was still set on where he was holding the plastic bags in his hands, and she noticed, after he stopped speaking in reaction to his dad coming home, that his hands began trembling. It was so minimal, she almost didn't catch it until she saw the bag wavering under the light coming in from his window.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything more, she felt his hands on her shoulders shoving her into the closet. He followed in closely behind her and crawled in until they were both crammed into the confined space together. With the closet doors shut in front of them, he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear for her to be quiet.

She stands with her arms crossed over herself in the center of his room, and though nothing has yet to be said or done to convince her anything is wrong, that's the exact reason why she feels so unnerved by the entire experience of coming here.

He's silent.

The closet doors are wide open as he stuffs the rest of the clothes he had yet to bring to the Chateau into the biggest bag he could find. He rips through his belongings in a fit of melancholy driven anger. His thoughts are swirling with similar memories to the ones she conjures from being here again, but his are tinged with a darkness hers don't have, even with hearing him crying in pain as a child and hiding in the closet with his hand smothering her mouth to evade his dad.

JJ visibly grimaces at the memories he's forced to relive in flashes with every glimpse he gets of the room he spent so much time hiding in. It used to be more tolerable to be here, or at least easier to suffer through. At least he was used to it before, but he got so accustomed to life somewhere else that the second he was confronted with coming back, he started to fall apart.

Whatever he can't live without, he finds space for it in the bag and prepares to leave the rest behind. But every object he touches and step he takes around the room brings him back to the person who he spent his adolescence simultaneously fleeing and wanting more from. More notably, it brings him back to the train of thought that has been nagging him ever since he texted him over the weekend.

The third and final time she came here was over the summer.

It happened right before Hurricane Agatha waged war on the island, when none of the Pogues heard from JJ for two days after he said he had to go home to help his dad with something. She didn't want to track him down to his house after they went over twenty-four hours without a single message. She didn't want to have to go back to the house that gave her chills to think about, let alone go to again after they hid in his closet when they were younger, but he gave her no other choice.

What was she supposed to do except go check on him where he last said he'd be? After all, if she lived in the hazardous environment he did, he'd do the exact same for her. If their friends were involved in her thoughts at the time, they would've gone out on a limb to say he would've gone beyond what she did to protect her if the situation were flipped. If he knew someone was hurting her, he would've come in swinging first and asked questions later, but, in her defense, he strictly told her to never come back to his house. By walking over in the first place, she was breaking one of the fundamental rules of their friendship.

Nevertheless, she found herself crouching around the side of his house to find his bedroom window and check if he was in there. Kie and Pope weren't aware of what was happening with his dad yet, but she and John B accidentally found out years ago, so she wasn't wondering why he wasn't answering them, she was wondering if he was alive.

Part of her truly thought underneath it all that Luke might've killed him. He might've been too drunk or high and went too far when beating him, too far to the point where he didn't want to risk going to jail to take him to the hospital for help. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't check, and if he got pissed at her for showing up against his wishes and didn't want to speak to her ever again, she could live with that.

She knocked on his window in a cadenced beat loud enough for it to heard through the room but not any further. After the first series of knocks, no one came to the window. It ripped her heart to pieces to wonder if she'd see him again as she continued to knock and allowed the sound to increase in volume in hopes that maybe he was asleep, but it didn't bring anyone to the window.

It wasn't until she turned back around to go to the front of the house again that she bumped right into the solid wall of his chest and was pushed back up against the house. The question of what she was doing there was on the tip of his tongue, but she said something that stopped him from asking it.

Her arms were thrown around his shoulders in a desperate bear hug.

"Oh God, JJ, you scared me half to death!" she cried into the front of his shirt, "I thought he killed you!"

He can't help but think of it as he packs his belongings away for a final time to bid his hellish childhood home goodbye: What kind of life are they going to have together if they can't get off this island? Running away may have been an idealistic drunken fantasy for him to entertain after his conversation with Pope got him to admit his true feelings for her, but they both know his consistency can't be trusted.

One moment, he's planning to tell her. The next, a day like today comes along, sweeps his legs out from beneath his body, and he's questioning whether it's worth it to force her to put up with his fickle commitment to her. It isn't fair to her, is it?

Right now is just about when he'd normally start to hyperventilate with an oncoming wave of panic, and he does, but he can't let it fully sweep into him with her here. He fights the urge to smack his head with the heel of his palm, as if that'd forcibly remove the poisonous thoughts infiltrating his mind and ruining the careful work they've done together to remedy their issues with communicating their feelings.

Just like you ruin everything, a thought whispers in the corner of his mind. What made you think this would be any different?

His actions around the room have turned somewhat aimless and distracted, which she notices as soon as he starts to disintegrate into a mess of heavy breaths and self-sabotaging thoughts. She picks up on the shift in his energy as soon as the anxiety starts to wash over him, and she'll be damned if she continues to stand here quietly to let it happen.

It's one thing if he's being silent because being here upsets him, or if he simply doesn't know what to say, but she refuses to let him tailspin into a mental breakdown without doing something to stop it. Whether he knows it or not, after what they went through with him trying to push her away last week, she knows what's occurring within his mind right now.

He flinches at the feeling of her hand grabbing his shoulder to turn him to face her at first, and when she reaches again with her other hand to try to hold his hand as he cries, he shrugs off her touch.

"JJ..." she lets the solemn sound of her own voice murmuring his name trail off, "it's just me."

His head shakes at her consoling words. Everything else inside of his mind is so earth-shatteringly loud, he can't drown it out with logic or reason to bring himself away from the memories of his dad. Those intrusive thoughts keep attacking him with doubled, then tripled force the harder he tries to resist them, and he's so exhausted from it. All of it—the memories, his dad going to jail, and his inability to accept her love to its fullest extent without convincing himself she'll abandon him—is exhausting.

This time, when she rests her hand on his shoulder, he swats it away as the frustration of today crushing him with the force of an avalanche. Not to hurt or scare her, but to get her hands off of him before he bursts out of his skin with the sickness it stirs in his stomach. So detached from himself, he anticipates pain from every touch she gives him, and he knows it hurts her.

JJ hardly recognizes his own voice as he backs away from her a step and says, "Don't."

He can tell it hurts her based on how she looks at him immediately after, but he can't handle being touched right now. How did this happen so quickly? It was overwhelming when they first parked outside, but as soon as he stepped foot inside, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him and all of the buried feelings he kept hidden over the past two weeks exploded into this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You need to leave. I just-I can't breathe and"—He still refuses to look up from the ground or see her face as he paces around the room with no real intent in mind—"You can't see me like this."

That is what breaks her out of her soft spoken, timid attitude to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. Their natural dynamic worked best for him to take charge when she had her panic attack because JJ acts first and thinks later. He saw that she was in distress and jumped in to help her before things got worse rather than allowing her to keep him at an arms length where he couldn't do anything about it.

Taking a page from his rule book, she takes action.

The room surrounding them is in a state of disarray from him searching through it for the items of clothing and objects now stashed in his duffel bag. There are multiple obstacles in her way as she steps between them like navigating a minefield to reach him after he backed away in instinctual fear, but they don't stop her from reaching him. Nothing could.

Y/N walks right up to him and reaches to grasp his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing around and actually look at her for the first time since they arrived her so he hears what she says. To say the least, the way he looks right now is enough to make her cry. There are tears welled up to the brims of his blue eyes, his lips are downturned with his sobs, and he's staring at her like she's about to strike him.

She says it as slowly and clearly as she needs to get it through his head, "He's not here," and before he manages to squeeze out another word of doubt between his rapid inhalations, she cuts in, "Take deep breaths."

He isn't listening to her.

The movement of his chest that hits hers from how close they stand to each other has yet to settle into the familiar pace she remembers from nights of falling asleep with the rhythm of his breaths beneath her head.

Her eyes search his face frantically, from left to right and top to bottom, for any sign of the person she's known for years, but she doesn't see him. Instead, she sees the same panicked child her and John B saw the first time they visited this house. It's uncanny how similar the expression in his face is. It feels to her as if she's been hurled back in time to the moment itself, and when she tries to think about what would've worked with him back then, she doesn't know what else to do except help him escape.

So, with the helplessness of having to watch him turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess, she decides to step into the darkness with him and do what seven year old Y/N would've done. Just like their games of make believe, of pirates and princesses, she assumes the role John B would have and rescues him from what holds him captive. It’s his own mind in this case, but, in the physical sense, it's the house.

She drops her hands from his face and takes his hand in hers to drag him out of the room. The packed bag sits on the floor in their wake as she pulls him back through the bedroom door and into the living room, not caring about what they came here to do.

It doesn't matter anymore.

The various rooms of his dad's house pass by them in a blur as she leads him down the hallway to the front door with one sole objective in mind: get him out of here. If he wants his stuff to bring back to the Chateau, she'll go back inside and get whatever he needs her to, but she isn't letting him inside of this house again. Not under her watch.

Thankfully, since he is undeniably stronger than her and she wouldn't have stood a chance, he doesn't fight it. He stumbles after her guiding hand the same way he always has, just like how he followed her back to the Chateau after she and John B saw him that day when they were kids. She led the way as he sat on the handlebars of her brother's bike, and he watched her hair flutter in the wind with the momentum of their bicycle spokes until the tears dried up.

He watches her drag him out of the home until they've reached the safety of the yard at the bottom of the porch steps, and as soon as the soles of her shoes meet the dirt, she feels his hand slipping out of hers.

"JJ?"

She turns around to see him clutching his chest, rubbing his hand along the front of his shirt over his heart as though it'll loosen up the tightened muscles preventing him from catching his breath. His body weight is leaned onto the railing of the porch steps for support. He's partially slumped on it, looking at her desperately, like she somehow knows the answer to every question screamed inside of his head, and she has never felt as useless.

"You're gonna leave," JJ says through the gasps and cries that leave his cheeks stained with tears.

When she reaches out again to help him remain upright without leaning over the railing, he doesn't shove her hands away as he did inside of his bedroom. It's a small battle won, but she takes it as a win nonetheless.

"What are you saying? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"

"You're gonna leave! Everybody does! My mom, John B, my dad, and you"—his head falls to look at the ground instead of her, and she watches him work through it in his head—"I mean, look at me. You don't want this."

"Don't tell me what I want," she says.

Her voice remains as steady and calm as she can force it to be amidst the turbulent situation, but the way he said it...It takes her right back to sitting in the back of the Twinkie with him at the Cherry Bowl, except it's ten times worse. That felt like a break up, but based on what he's saying, this is one. She hasn't prepared herself for the heartache she feels in response to it.

"You don't want me, you just think you do 'cause I was there after John B died, but you don't. You're gonna go off, find some perfect guy that isn't as fucked up as me, and have a great life somewhere else, but it ain't here," JJ says, his breathing evening out with the distraction of the argument to keep him tethered tor reality, "And it won't be with me."

He can see it every time he's looked at her and debated saying those three titular words that have been floating around in his head since he first met her.

How could she want someone who can't walk into his childhood bedroom without breaking down, or someone who still has years-old scars from cigarette burns on his skin when she touches him? Her bright future contrasted with his pre-designated fate on the Cut, her personality better matched with someone more similar to her, her life continuing on whether he's there or not—it's his worst nightmare, but he's prepared to see it through.

What he doesn't expect is for her to hold her ground.

"You honestly think I'm buying into that bullshit?" she asks.

"What?"

She doesn't put it softly, she states facts with as much harshness as his cruel fantasy had, "You're trying to push me away and I won't let you."

Her typically sweet, soft features have hardened into a bitter expression he's sure he mirrors. The arms holding his waist to keep him upright move to climb up his chest and cup his face between her hands with all of the gentleness her face and voice don't have right now.

She sees right through him.

When he tries to look away again, to avert his eyes to make what he's trying to do easier on himself by not having to look at her when he does it, her grasp on his face holds firm. Her hands guide his chin back up so they're face to face, and he realizes what a mistake everyone makes in assuming her this dainty, broken girl whose only source of strength came from the brother she lost. She's a forest fire.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"

Y/N interjects, "I am hearing what you're saying, I'm just saying it's bullshit."

She refuses to let him off the hook, and though it frustrates him on the surface, deep down, it makes him fall in love with her all over again. Her insistence against his speech about her leaving him proves him wrong more than anything else could, 'cause he gave her the perfect chance to dip and she shot it down instantly.

The house looms behind them as a menacing presence that threatens to take control of him again, but she doesn't let it. She keeps his eyes on her no matter how many times he tries to look away and doesn't let anything get in the way of what she says next.

"You think that if you push me away and get me to leave you right now, it'll hurt less than it would if I did it later, and I don't accept that. I won't take the bait and let you torture yourself anymore, okay? I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll never leave you. Not willingly, anyway."

She looks into his eyes, and this time its softer, more loving, and he's never felt as understood as he does when she continues to speak.

"I'm in love with you. Whether it scares you or not, it's the truth, and I'll never stop saying it. If you think that your issues with your dad are gonna change that for me, you've officially lost your mind." Their noses brush as she leans in to ghost a kiss over his mouth and pulls away a second later to whisper, her forehead pressed to his, "I love you, JJ. Stop being so stubborn and just let me."

His next breath in trembles as he lets her words sink in, and he's stuck at a crossroads inside of himself without a clue of what to do.

The breeze blows her hair away from her face, the afternoon sunshine painting her golden, and when he sees her hair flutter in the air like it did so many years ago, he can't help but feel as calm as he did during their bike ride home. The further away he got from his dad and the house where it all happened, the calmer he grew, and it hits him at this moment that he's so taken aback by her confession to him, he forgot why he was so upset.

It's sobering. The intoxication of his panic hurtled him back in time to the frightened, childlike state of mind his dad's violent abuse often sent him to, but it was hearing her say those words he's feared for weeks that brought him back. Like the jolt of a defibrillator, he's roused back to life with more clarity than before.

She loves him, but, perhaps more importantly, she said she'd never leave him, and that is what he needed to hear more than anything. That is the statement worth more to him than the four letter word he has agonized over endlessly. No one else every attached the promise of "I love you" with the stipulation of it lasting forever. They said the empty words and contradicted it with their actions, but she hasn't done that. Her actions spoke the words long before her mouth did.

He sighs.

It's a deep, yearning sigh that sends him melting into her with the acceptance of what he's denied for too long. He savors the hands cradling his head, as well as the body pressed up against his that he has memorized down to every beauty mark and imperfection, and makes the right choice.

It isn't like it was the night at the Cherry Bowl, or the night he spoke to Pope about it. It still takes more bravery than he possesses to form the words, but there isn't a physical incapability stopping him anymore. It's just him against the trauma beckoning him into its trap again, and he won't let it lure him back into that house.

"Alright," JJ says to her through a sniffle in acceptance to her command, as if he were agreeing on afternoon surfing plans rather than something as monumental as allowing someone to love him, then continues onto with a timid tone, "I love you too."

Before he can watch for her reaction, she's surging forward through the few inches of space left between them to connect their lips in a kiss.

It's vastly different to the kiss they shared in the hallway at school last Friday. In contrast to that one, the reigning emotion within him that drives the kiss after the hesitant beginning doesn't lead them into increased intensity, it gets gentler. It doesn't explode into chaos and passion, it's a tired kiss that he never wants to retreat from. It's the physical manifestation of his feelings for her underneath the guarded exterior he uses to protect himself: gentle and yielding, yet undeniably powerful.

He feels her smiling through her tears against his mouth. In the face of everything that happened this afternoon, he doesn't feel like he should be smiling back at her, but he does. He smiles while kissing her with tears streaming down his face, still reeling from his traumatic response to coming home for the final time, and wonders how a person can feel such contradicting emotions all at once.

Y/N is the one who starts to pull away first, though it's only to check in on him. If she had it her way, she could stay here with him until the sun sets, but he did just come back from the brink of a full-blown panic attack, so she can't in good conscience ignore his well-being for the momentary bliss of their love confessions.

Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her smile drooping with worry as she asks, "Wanna spend the rest of the day on the boat? You always say being on the water makes you feel better. Maybe it'll make it easier to talk about it."

His Adam's apple bobs with how he swallows the lump in his throat.

"Can we maybe take baby steps for now? I don't think I can handle telling you all that shit yet."

It was already enough to allow her to follow him into the house, watch him break down into a fit of panic no one else has seen him in, and tell her he loved her, but it'd cross the line into uncharted territory to talk about everything between him and his dad so openly. Between the minor annoyance of dealing with Kacey to this hellish visit home, he thinks he's reached his quota on feeling uncomfortable today.

She nods in agreement.

"Baby steps."

Drawn back to each other by a force stronger than gravity, they collide again, but it isn't a kiss this time. It's a hug charged with all of the previously unspoken emotions they've buried inside of themselves for years, the same hug she gave him the last time she came to this house with the fear of his potential death lingering in her thoughts.

She throws herself at him with the same desperation she did that day and relishes the feeling of his muscular arms returning the embrace until their bodies are tangled together. She'd usually never refer to something as inherently affectionate as an embrace as violent, but it's the closest she can come to capturing how it feels as their bodies meet. It makes her lose her footing on the bottom step they stand on together, teetering on the edge she'd surely slip off of with the force if not for him keeping her steady.

He's about to say something, a thank you to her for calling him out on his bullshit and not letting him go that easily, when the grating sound of her ringtone blares from the back pocket of her denim shorts.

The contact popping up on the screen along with a series of frantic messages when she pulls away from him to answer shows Pope's name.

Pope You and JJ need to get back to the Chateau ASAP!!

The van doors slam shut behind Y/N and JJ as soon as it rolls to a stop in front of the Chateau.

Under the assumption that something dire happened, as in injury or death or catastrophic damage to the house itself, they bolted off of that porch faster than they knew they could move. She only turned back when she remembered the packed back of JJ's things they abandoned on his bedroom floor and, not wanting him to reenter the house, she brought it back to the Twinkie in record time.

They're preparing to trample up the porch into the house like a stampede of animals when they hear Kie calling them over to the backyard and change direction.

"No one's hurt!" she shouts, knowing that was likely where their minds went after everything they went through during the summer, "You have to see this though, I don't know who did it!"

Sticks and fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet on her way around the side of the house. Her mind races with the possibility of what could've happened that didn't hurt their friends but necessitated a series of texts and calls as frantic as the ones she received at JJ's house. She drove over here in defiance of the speed limit, something she rarely does, and prayed nothing terrible was happening.

It gave her flashbacks to when she found out John B and Sarah died in the storm. The pedal beneath her foot brought the van to an uncomfortably swift speed, then she remembered the sound of Shoupe's voice when he gave them the news. JJ warned her to slow down, then she remembered how it took multiple people to help her restrain him from attacking the new sheriff for letting his men drive their friends into their deaths.

At first, she doesn't realize what's wrong.

Kiara and Pope are standing and waiting for them across the grass near the large tree that sits as a centerpiece to their yard. Based on the body language screaming their frustration and the tears in their eyes, she can tell something bad did happen, but it's not clear what it is until she looks past them to the tree. More specifically, until she looks at what's on the tree.

"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.

Her hand is already up to cover her mouth and conceal the instantaneous frown besmirching her previously relaxed face. They both are stopped in their tracks halfway to where their friends are standing, and she can’t hear JJ's reaction over the rising volume of her hysterical thoughts.

Spray painted in red on top of their memorial for John B are the words "COP KILLER" in bold letters that conceal what they burned into the tree trunk for his gravestone. It sticks out from the beauty of the greens, browns, blues, and swathes of other earthy tones composing the scenery around the Chateau like a thorn amongst flowers, so much so that she wonders how she didn't instantly see it when they rounded the corner to come back here.

Yet that isn't the only thing amiss in the peaceful sanctuary they call home, there are random things strewn around the ground around the tree. An old t-shirt spray painted with the word "murderer" on the front, four ripped up envelopes, and a gorgeous mahogany jewelry box...broken on the grass.

The freshly turned dirt they had the contents of the box buried beneath is scattered around the trashed area as well. It clicks with her a few seconds late that whoever came here to do this must have seen the pinwheel she put in the ground to mark the "grave" and dug it up to add insult to injury.

She moves forward without consciously realizing it and stumbles until she reaches the first object of the debris field. Before this, she was doing a masterful job of holding in her cries, but as soon as she crouches down to pick up the pieces of the jewelry box, the lid snapped clean off the hinges to separate it from the bottom section, it comes rushing out of her against her will. The first unrestrained keen is the first thing to snap JJ out of his shell shocked trance.

He walks after her as fast as his legs will take him without breaking into a run, but she isn't letting him get close before she puts the box back down and shuffles forward to collect the torn letter remains. She doesn't want them to get blown away by the wind anymore than they already might have been, so she scrambles to gather the pieces until they're cupped in her hands to protect them.

"Why?" she asks and looks up at Kie and Pope with tears dripping down her face, "Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?"

Pope says, "My guess is as good as yours. We didn't see anyone leaving when we got here, so it must've happened before school ended. This is all we saw before we called you guys."

For a second or two, JJ is grasping at straws for why this happened and who did it like the rest of them are, but then something Pope said makes it click into place. It sets off a domino effect in his mind as he brings back the memory of a certain offspring of satan being absent from gym this afternoon despite being at school earlier, since his encounter with her before Physics made him, unfortunately, aware of her existence again.

His face is set in anger, jaw clenching with the tension of him grinding his teeth together, and he takes his hat off to fidget with it between his hands for a second. Their friends are too focused on her crying to see him contemplating it, but as soon as he speaks, they look up to see him setting his hat back onto his head in preparation to leave and track Kacey down.

Y/N's head snaps up from the torn letters in her hands to the sight of him storming off across the yard with his only goodbye being the words, "I'm gonna kill that bitch."

Her and Pope stare after him in shock, unable to put the pieces together about who that "bitch" is, but Kie doesn't miss a single beat. While Y/N is crumpled over on the ground in tears, she's rushing after JJ before he can approach the bike parked in front of the house. He doesn't even make it five steps before he feels her hands latching onto his wrist to stop him.

She asks, "Who the hell are you talking about? And why would they do this?"

His eyes narrow at her. His unreleased frustration for the situation in general and having to watch Y/N cry after an emotional afternoon together comes rushing out when he snaps at her.

"Kacey. She talked shit at school and I put her in her place. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pay her a little visit."

He yanks his arm sharply towards himself to free it from her grip, but she's a step ahead of him. Quicker than he can think to stop her, Kie swipes the keys hanging out of his back pocket away and throws them to Pope, who, bless his heart, can't catch to save his life. The key ring jingles with its contact at the dead center of his chest, and she mouths an apology to him before turning back to face JJ.

"What the fuck, Kie?"

He makes to stomp past her and retrieve the keys from Pope only to be stopped by her hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.

"Listen to me, you can't go anywhere. Look at her," she whispers lowly enough to keep Y/N from hearing, pointing behind her to where she sits on the ground with Pope knelt beside her, "I wouldn't put it past Kacey to pull a stunt like this. I'm just as mad as you, but revenge can wait and you know it. She needs you."

The fury visible in his expression is subdued by looking past Kie's shoulder to see Y/N crying softly to Pope about the vandalized memorial.

The last time he saw her so distraught over something, it was the day they made the memorial and buried the box in the first place. She sits on her knees with her mom's broken jewelry box between them, shuddering with the sobs she has no control over, and pours the torn paper into the empty bottom half of the box. Exhausted to the core, she looks more like a sullen, kicked puppy than she does herself.

It makes his anger-fueled instincts that urge him to hunt Kacey down and do something, anything he can to make her feel the pain they do right now bubble down into sorrow. It's visible in his eyes when he looks at her.

Kie knows she's gotten under his skin when he sighs, sparing a parting glance to the bike in the driveway, and nods once at her before setting off back to where they're sitting in the grass.

Meanwhile, Y/N is stuck staring down at the disarray of her backyard with nothing but pain aching through her to the bone.

Her brother did wrong things sometimes as a consequence of being human, but never this, never something worthy of having his name dragged through the mud and being branded a murderer after his death. He stole scuba gear from Ward and broke dozens of laws in their hunt for the gold, but he never crossed that line into moral bankruptcy. Rafe did, and it kills JJ to see someone like Kacey do this to his best friend while hanging off of Rafe and his friends like a leech.

The fabric of his worn t-shirt is tarnished by the dried paint clinging to the front of it to the spell the lie written there, and her vision blurs with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the span of an hour. First, it was JJ. Now, it's John B, and she can't help but wonder if the heartache will ever end. It began to feel better over the course of the week, her grief for him slowly beginning to slip from her mind until now. Until the storm clouds converged again to batter her with another wave of it.

Through the deafening volume of her mind racing with thoughts and feelings to process what's happened, she hears Pope shuffling around to stand on his feet. Then, another person sits down in his place and scoots closer until their bodies are touching, and she knows it's him. She doesn't have to wait to hear his voice or look to see his face, she can tell based on the feeling of his touch and the smell of him she's so intimately familiar with, yet couldn't describe it aloud if she tried.

He doesn't smother her. He sits close enough to touch her and doesn't push it any further.

The background of the pale, cloudless sky frames him in the foreground like the subject of a painting—a living, breathing painting that she could study endlessly. The other trees planted in the yard's leaves flutter distantly behind him and try to draw her gaze away, but she keeps her eyes on him.

Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.

Maybe it'll get better and worse in a dance that'll only stop when they're no longer here to agonize over it. Maybe this is what moving on from John B will always be like. It'll feel like they've made strides in the right direction, then something will come along to shatter it to sharp pieces that'll reopen their stitched up wounds. If that's the case, at least the four of them have each other to lean on when it gets worse again.

JJ sits with her and lets her crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, until the sun sinks below the horizon.

The gentle bobbing of the HMS Pogue at the surface of the water steadies her amidst her eddying thoughts. It keeps her present to the moment the way the ropes tying the boat to the dock keeps it from floating adrift into the marsh. It's a motion engrained in her from the start of her life until now from countless days spent on the water. Whether it be for fishing, swimming, or playing make believe with her boys all those years ago, it's as much a part of her as her personality or body itself.

JJ was right about one thing: being out on the water makes it easier to think.

He hasn't followed her out since she woke up before sunrise and snuck out of bed to come here. Despite her efforts not to wake him, he woke up when she disentangled her body from his, silently cursing the fact that they always cuddle so closely, and he tried to pull her back to him with a whine of displeasure in his groggy, half-asleep state. Sleep finally found them after hours of staying up together to talk about what Kacey did, unable to relax from the chaos of yesterday, so he wasn't prepared to wake up that soon.

"Go back to sleep, angel," she whispered as she hovered over him, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips that he was too tired to return.

That was the last time she saw him since this morning, and now that the sun has risen to its peak in the sky without her moving an inch from her perch atop the bow of the boat, she's begun to wonder if he's awake yet. It isn't uncommon for them to sleep in for half of the day when there isn't school or work, so it isn't surprising to her that he's just now waking up when she hears the back door to the Chateau opening and closing.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ has been awake the entire morning since she left bed.

They were so attached to each other yesterday night, he didn't have the time to put it together without her seeing and ruining the surprise, but once he heard the door to the porch close to signify her leaving, he kicked the blankets off of himself and got to work. He wasn't originally planning on starting so early, since they stayed up late into the night together, but once he woke up to the feeling of her sneaking out of his arms, he was too awake to fall back asleep.

The sound of his footsteps on the dock warns her of his approach, but she doesn't raise her head from where she rests it in her palms to stare out at the water.

"I was wondering when you'd finally wake up," she says.

There's another few steps, then the boat jostles with his weight stepping onto it.

He doesn't say anything to her in response. The only clue she gets as to what he's doing are the footsteps on the deck that lead closer to her until she feels him sitting down on the bow next to where she is. And she's about to open her mouth to ask if he's okay when he sets something down in front of her.

It's a shoe box.

Y/N turns to see him, eyes flickering over his tired face, and looks back at the box with furrowed brows.

"What is this?"

His hair is messy, exactly how it was when she left him in bed this morning, and if she weren't more focused on the mysterious box he plopped down in front of her, she'd be combing through it with her fingers. He's gotten used to those casual displays of affection from her; how she runs her hands through his hair on mornings before school when he forgets to brush it, or when she fixes a button on his flannel that he missed.

JJ's lips are tipped in a smile, and she can't help but blush with how he looks at her. She never used to see it, but he has always looked at her like this. Like he's hopelessly, utterly in love with her. Even before they lost John B, back when he'd expend all of his romantic and sexual attention on girls he hardly knew, he still looked at her this way.

He gestures at it and says, "Open it."

The lid of the box is coated in a freshly dried layer of blue paint to match the shade of the sky overhead. She knows instantly that he must have dug through the arts and crafts box she specifically labeled with a warning for him and John B to stay out. It's painted with aimlessly sloppy brushstrokes and stickers placed at every corner of the cardboard box, all of which she recognizes from the stash she kept under her bed alongside the India ink he borrowed last Friday.

As she gives him a skeptical look and reaches to lift the lid off of the shoe box, she makes a mental note to rewrite the label on the arts and crafts box without the warning for him to keep out. Since John B isn't here to steal anything from it and JJ never follows that rule anyway, it's redundant at this point.

Any skepticism is washed away from her face as soon as she flips the lid open to reveal what's inside. It leaves her speechless as she looks down at it all.

"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.

Sitting at the bottom of it is a folded up t-shirt she saw JJ wear multiple times, but never again since John B died. He refused to glance at the shirt his best friend gave him the year before they never saw him again, let alone dig it out of the corner of her closet where he keeps his things...until now.

But that's a scratch on the surface of all of the things about his gift that stuns her to silence. The next thing to catch her immediate attention is a picture she hasn't seen in years.

It's one that Big John took of the three of them together right where she and JJ are sitting. She was much younger in it, flashing a toothy grin with her arms thrown over both boys' shoulders. To her left, John B was leaning his head on her shoulder. To her right, JJ was wearing an eyepatch they crafted out of an old black shirt he stole from his dad. It was cut with the kitchen scissors and tied around the back of his head in a knot.

She brushes her thumb over John B's face, then sets the crinkled photograph back down atop the folded shirt and moves her attention to the last surprise.

Letters.

Torn up pieces of paper painstakingly taped back together sit one on top of the other, some missing pieces here or there, and it makes her mouth part in shock. Her hands shuffle the letters apart to see each one and recognize the handwriting: Kie's bubbly, swirling letters, Pope's neat cursive, hers, and JJ's chicken scratch writing that she's able to decipher from years of proofreading his essays.

She pictures him at her desk all morning while she was sitting out here, ripping tape off of the roll and arranging the puzzle pieces of the ripped letters until he was sure he got it right. It made him want to rip the hair from his scalp, but he sat there and pushed through the frustration to make it as perfect as he could for her. The missing pieces were primarily from Kie's letter, which fluttered away on a balmy breeze when Kacey tore it up and threw it to the ground, but the one he wanted her to have the most wasn't missing more than a single piece.

Y/N looks up from the letters held like a precious treasure in her hands to see him watching her with that same classic JJ smile on his face, but he doesn't let her get a word in yet.

"Go on," he says, leaning closer to pull his letter to John B out and place it on top of the pile for her to read, "I want you to read it."

"You didn't let me read it when I asked before though, are you sure you—"

He interrupts her before she can worry herself over it, "Dude, just read it. I promise I'm fine with it. I want you to."

The letters crinkle under her touch as she looks back down and smooths them out on the deck enough to read through the clear tape. With one last confirming glance to him for permission, she takes a deep breath and reads the first line.

Dear John B,

You really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don't you? You really outdid yourself on this one. I was so sure we were gonna make it, but I guess you had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us, huh? As long as you and Sarah are happy macking on each other in heaven, it's okay.

In all seriousness, I fucking miss you, bro. I miss you more than I realized a person could miss another person. Whenever I need to talk to you again, I don't know what to do. I guess that's why it's good that Y/N made me write this.

Also, I'm really sorry for—

"What does it say there? There's a whole chunk missing," she murmurs.

He scoots close enough to her that she can feel his body warmth radiating onto her through the shoulder of his flannel. Sunlight reflects on the silver rings decorating his fingers as he holds one side of the paper to tilt it enough for him to squint at.

"Macking, I think. It's supposed to say "I'm sorry for macking on your sister."

—macking on your sister. You can totally kick my ass for it, but before you come back from the grave to murder me, let me defend myself, okay? She isn't just another girl for me, John B.

I think you knew it before I did.

Last summer, you asked me straight up if we were hooking up behind your back after I kissed her in front of you on the porch. I laughed in your face, but you were right.

You saw everything before me, man. You knew I loved her since we were kids and waited for us to come to you about it, so that's gotta mean something, right? I hope it means you wouldn't be mad at me for this.

I swear I won't fuck it up with her, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to take care of her,. I didn't know why at the time but I do now. I won't let you down.

I'm keeping my promise.

- JJ

P.S. Don't miss me too much. We'll be shotgunning beers together up there before you know it.

There are tears blooming in her eyes when she lifts her gaze from the tattered paper to look at him again, but they aren't sad. For once, the tears slipping down her cheeks are happy tears, not born from grief, sadness, and pain, but bittersweet happiness.

They're caught staring at each other for a second before he asks her shyly, "It isn't too sappy or anything, is it? 'Cause I thought it—"

"C'mere," is the only thing she can get out before she's tugging him forward by the front of his shirt to kiss him.

JJ stumbles a little with the unexpected force of her pulling him to her, but he takes it in stride. He steadies himself and lets his hands shoot out to grapple for purchase on her waist, keeping her pressed up against him tightly as he kisses her back.

And it doesn't get much better than this, does it? This is it for him. He meant what he wrote to John B, he won't fuck it up with her, especially not because of his trauma with his dad getting inside his head and sabotaging his relationship with her. This is what makes everything worth it.

It brings happy tears to his eyes too.

She can taste the salt of them where their lips meet in the middle. It makes her smile, wrapping her arms around his neck and clenching the letters he mended for her in her fist to keep them from blowing away in the wind, and they both start to laugh into each other's mouths at the poignant feeling they both share but can't quite place.

They pull away from each other to catch their breath after another moment of it, and she can't help but stare. How could she not when she feels like this? It’s less like he’s her boyfriend and more like a piece of her soul has attached itself to his with no hope of letting go in the near future.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she whispers to him.

Plain and simple. No room for disagreement or a bashful rejection of the compliment. She's pulled back from him enough to hold his gaze and make sure he sees her seriousness, and there isn't anything he can do to refute her statement.

He brushes his nose against hers affectionately, dipping down to kiss her again, but when he leans back to see her face, he can't help himself.

"Ditto."

The rest of the day after their moment on the boat, locked away in their own little world where none of the monsters chasing them could sneak through and ruin it, melts away peacefully. After another half hour spent looking through the box together, of her thanking him over and over again, he hops off of the HMS Pogue onto the dock and extends his hand to her in the most gentlemanly manner possible.

His lips are curved into a smirk as he kneels down on one knee as though she's a revered royal and bows his head in subservience, "Princess Routledge."

Her hand fits in his warm, calloused palm as a perfect match, and she steps off of the boat onto the dock beside him with an expression to match his.

"Captain Maybank," she says in her most regal royalty voice.

Her stellar performance breaks into a laugh they share as he stands and throws his arm around over her shoulder to walk back to the yard. The cardboard box is tucked beneath one of her arms while the other slips around his side to hold him back, and her heart feels full with both the presence of JJ and John B alongside her.

They bury it together.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, and @krisphann

Also, now that it’s over, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments or tags if you’d like to :) I’m curious.

[awkwardkindatries]

Kinktober Day 3: Uniform

Have I ever said how much I genuinely love Celebrimbor? best boy.

Celebrimbor/reader

NSFW

Words:2347

Elves in Eregion didn't really have uniforms outside of military forces, they did however, have a standard of dress for their meetings in court. This dress code typically consists of a high collar shirt, a button down tunic, full length trousers followed by high polished black boots. One's hair must always be done and braided back and most jewelry is kept to the minimum at a circlet and possibly a ring. All fabrics are embellished in elaborate embroidery and buttons polished to a lovely shine, not a hair or stitch to be out of place.

These court sessions aren't exactly frequent so within your time there you hadn't had the pleasure of catching him in his authoritative garb until today. You caught sight of him walking back to his quarters, his shoulders weren't square they were dropped in exhaustion, his eyes were tired and his brow furrowed in stress. You couldn't help but to follow him a few paces as he walked past you before grabbing ahold of his cuff, softly calling his name.

He whips around to stare at you allowing you to take full advantage of your close proximity. He's tall and broad as he towers above you, his clothing makes him look sharp and important, as if he could command a room of people and they listen without hesitation.

In contrast, his disposition was soft, worn down by politics and stress bearing down on him with the weight of Arda. Though you couldn't relieve him fully of this weight you could at least make the load seem lighter.

You offer him company on the rest of the walk back to his chambers, the halls oddly empty as the hour was not yet late. You suppose this was for the better as the added traffic would only have exasperated his condition. Chatter was relatively light between the two of you, and though you two had grown close you didn't want to wear him down further with topics of importance.

When you had made it to his door, he hesitated frna moment before allowing you to follow him into his room. It wasn't something new to you however, it was deemed inappropriate by the court for an unmarried individual such as yourself to follow a member of said court into privacy, let alone while he was still in his professional attire. He opens the door and before you enter you glance to both sides once more and follow him on, lightly shifting the door behind you. You turn in search of him and find that he has fallen backward in a large splayed-out lump on top of his bed, legs draped over the side and head inches from the wall.

His arms rest bent over his head, hands atop his eyes as he lets out a deep sigh, letting the stress of the day leave his body as well as he could on his own. You couldn't help the light snort that left you as you took him in, yes he was tired, stressed, more than likely overworked but he was an up and coming leader and you understand that there's an adjustment period to these things that your partner might still be adjusting to.

While he mulls about with his head in his hands and thoughts elsewhere you take the moment to look around his room. It's neat, like normal but there are still things out of place that feel like disarray in the normally spotless, “not a hair out of order” Feanorians room. Books are pulled from their spots and left about on the table in the center of the room, discarded after reading. A half-empty cup of tea remains beside it. The towel he had used earlier in the day has not made its way back to the bathing chamber and sits in a little pool on the floor at his footboard. And lastly, the circlet he had been wearing earlier now rested on the floor, more than likely having been aimed for the table and not bothering to pick it up after hearing it drop to the carpet below. Odd, it was his fathers. He only ever wore it for formal occasions and typically treated it with more care.

You make your way in front of him before bending down to pluck it from the carpet, setting it in its intended place. Once finished, you turn to him.

His arms and hands slide from his face before his eyes reopen and he stares you down.

“Thank you, though you could have left it. I'd have gotten it eventually.”

You give a kind smile in return

“I couldn't possibly leave something so important to you.”

The smile he gives in return is tired and barrel there but it exists and you cherish every moment. Reaching out your hand you offer help, and say “if we hurry then we might still be able to catch supper, I heard they're serving stew tonight.”

It is his favorite after all.

He grabs your hand and attempts to stand before his knees give a weak wobble and he plummets back to the mattress. His body was obviously much closer to shutting down than the two of you had originally suspected.

He drags you down with him as he reconnects with the bed, you landing on top of his broad chest, subconsciously to the expensive fabric beneath your fingers, eyes shutting in anticipation of impact.

When it comes, the impact isn't too bad. The Ellon beneath you is as firm and solid as a wall below, opening your eyes you look up into his and you're surprised. His face is flushed a soft pink as he stares down at you, mouth suddenly filled with cotton neither really capable of speech. You're just about to get up and awkwardly excuse yourself to the hallway in order to take your embarrassment elsewhere when you feel it.

You're resting on something that grows hard against your stomach and as a result, are probably much redder than you were a few seconds prior. Since your eye contact stopped the next few moments would almost be comical as he realized the very moment you figured this situation out. You in turn realize you'd been found out and look away is embarrassment, not entirely sure what your next move should be.

He sits up, slightly shaking as anxiety begins to rack his body.

“I-im so sorry!” he quick to apologize

As you still rest in his lap, fingers tightly holding his velvet tunic you begin to consider a few things. How tired he has been lately, his body probably reacting in many ways due to this. How hard he has been working to do better for the people, his constant commute back and forth from the dwarvish colonies to improve relations, how on top of all of his duties he still manages to do the bare minimum to take care of himself and still sacrificing what little personal time he had for you.

You wonder when he gets time for care, he spends so much of his time caring for others, he does he receive any back.

Perhaps you could do this for him.

Taking the chance, you brace yourself against him and push back, grinding against him. His hands shoot to your hips holding you fast, looking all the more like a deer in sight.

“What are you doing?” he asks

You clear your throat and attempt the best steady voice that you're capable of at the moment.

“ Could I- if it's okay, uh. Help with that?” you ask, gesturing slightly down with your head.

You broke him, you're convinced of it, he hasn't blinked or moved in possibly a whole minute and at this point you're certain that you've just embarrassed yourself enough for the rest of your lifetime, you've ruined all of the time you put into forming this bond with Celebrimbor. You make to get off but his grip on your hips holds firm and he speaks, it's low and soft, barely there at all.

“I couldn't possibly ask..”

Immediately you perk up and backtrack your last thought process.

“You aren't!” you insist “I'm offering, I’d really like to help”.

Another moment passes and he nods in approval turning his head away, possibly embarrassed himself “Alright, if you so wish it..”

After receiving his permission you suddenly feel much more authoritative as you have this powerful looking Ellon below you, wanting your touch.your hands glide up from the fabric of his tunic to his neck stopping at his jaws, forcing his face in your direction his eyes meet yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question is simple but his reaction is almost like it was more intimate a request than touching anything below the belt. The answer isn’t as firm as the last one but he consents. Leaning in you apply soft pressure taking your time to make this count, to make him feel loved, appreciated. This cycle repeats until you slide your tongue along the seam of his mouth, asking for further permission. He shakes a tad but relents and squeezes your hips harder as you suck his tongue into your mouth and give a firm suck, the grunt that leaves him is intoxicating. Pulling away he already looks slightly out of breath and frankly you’re impressed with yourself.

You gently pull his fingers away from your body and move to kneel on the floor in front of him.

His hands now clench onto the fabric of his bedsheets as you take your time dragging up and down the sides of his thighs hoping to bring him more comfort. With a little more confidence your fingers trail over the fabric above his crotch, receiving a sharp inhale in return. Moving to the laces, unlacing them is quick then you make for the hem of his trousers. Looking up, he then understands and lifts up his waist allowing you to pull them further down to his thighs.

He's full and standing at attention, you glance up to him and you don't think you've ever seen his face any redder as he bites his lip in anticipation.

Taking him in hand you give a light kiss to the underside, his head falling back as a gasp leaves him. Continuing to watch his face, you grasped him tighter and began to stroke him up and down, a shudder leaving him at the motion.

In no time you've collected a fair amount of saliva and put it to use, giving a firm lick to the length of him. His breath chokes up for a second as he experiences this for the first Time. You repeat this a few times before taking a breath and wrapping your lips around his head. You hear the sheets stretch on either side of you as you work. Sucking in your cheeks as tightly as you could you swirl your tongue around the head, every so often flicking against the slit across the top.

Now that his noises have worked up to breathy sighs you take this as a sign to kick it up a notch. Bracing your hands on either thigh you push yourself up a little to give yourself a better angle. Tightening your hold on the bottom of his cock you took as much of him in your mouth as you could, barely making it to the top of your hand. Continuing your work and pace with determination you had barely noticed his hips following your pace chasing after the heat of your mouth.

His head is still tossed back as he breathes deeply occasionally gifting you with a groan and now you've given yourself a new goal. You want to make a mess of this man.

Removing your hand from his base you take a much deeper breath and begin to bob your hands as shallowly swallowing with every other bob. His hands shoot to your hair as a moan forces its way out of his throat. You have to try your hardest not to gag as tears prick your eyes and your jaw begins to ache at the size of your task. But you can do better, grinding the head of his cock against the back of your throat you begin to hum, alternating between bobbing and grinding your head in his lap occasionally scraping the tip of your nose against his pelvis.

You can feel his hands trembling in your hair as he doubles over above you, groans and moans trickling freely from his throat as he tries to contain himself from thrusting into your mouth and causing you harm. His feet can't seem to keep still as they slide against the floorboards below and his toes curl tightly under the polished black of his formal boots. The heat in his gut begins to bubble, ready to boil over as he gives a weak effort to warn you of his untimely end

“D-darling I *groan* I don't have much l-longer..”

Doubling down your efforts, you're determined to make his world crumble around him in rapture. Mere moments pass and relief washes over you and your jaw as his body locks, keeping your lips pressed firmly against his pelvis as he throbs out his finish down the length of your throat, a deep moan choking it's way from his depths .

Letting out a shuddered breath he lets go of your body before dropping back to his sheet, trying his damndest to regain his breath. His body feels like jelly and his head empty of all of his previous troubles as he basks in his euphoric high.

Pulling yourself from him you lick your lips in satisfaction as your loved one pants across from you. You make to grab his trousers hoping to help remake his decent before his hands gently cradle and hold onto yours. Sitting up a soft blush has resurfaced to his skin and he looks deeply into your eyes, you can't help but to feel warm as your arousal shoots back up.

“So then is it my turn?”

[abrushwithdeath]

It feels different. That wasn't good. Because if it felt different, then maybe David was right to think that it was getting bad. That maybe "bad" was even an understatement. How quickly was he losing control? And to whom? There were any number of others in his head that could be trying to win out over him. She still wasn't entirely sure how it all worked but... it was just similar enough to her own battle for control when she took too much from someone else that she thought she kinda understood. A little. Different situations, of course. And, usually, hers slipped away after a time. His was far more consistent. Harder to manage long term.

His next words were whispered and she felt that same overwhelming urge to take him into her arms, like she might be able to protect him from it all. She was powerless, of course, to really help him. What more could she offer than someone to confide in? Someone to lean on when he needed it? She couldn't help him wrest control back if he was losing it, even if there were times she could bring him back to the surface.

He pushed his hands through his hair and she could tell just how exasperated he was. See the tired lines of his face. She knew even on a good night David didn't always sleep so well. She wondered how little he was getting now, though.

"It's not... not the answer ya wan', I'm sure but... yeah. I think it's possible," She admitted. For better or worse, she wasn't much in the habit of lying. Least of all about something like this. She did, sincerely, think it was possible, especially if the voices were more than just voices. After all- a voice could change his perception, talk him into something, even. But if it was more... solid. A personality. A mind of its own. Something separate from himself living inside of him... Well, she'd been there. Carol was the first, of course, when she was still just a kid. That had been torture all its own, losing control when she wasn't on guard. Not remembering pieces of her day. Winding up somewhere else with no memory of how she'd gotten there. And then, not so long after she'd learned to control it... well, Genosha had been traumatic in a way she still didn't discuss, and she'd offered Carol full control with little hesitation. Winning it back had been damn near impossible the second time around. There had been a few others, too, but none had harrowed Rogue like her.

She sighed, then carefully reached a hand out to David. Gloved fingers settled softly against his shoulder. "We'll figure it out. A'right?" Or, they'd try to, at least.

David's jaw tightened, "I dunno," He admitted. He didn't know how bad it was getting. It felt pretty bad, but it also felt like the sort of thing he didn't want to discuss for fear of making it true. "It feels different."

David couldn't quite put his finger on why it wall felt so different this time. They'd been treating his illness for as long as they had been trying to keep his powers in check. He knew how to differentiate between symptoms and his powers.

This should have been like that.

"I feel...out of control," He whispered. He was afraid his father was listening which was likely partly reality and partly paranoia. "I mean it literally. Like I'm not in control."

He pushed his hands through his hair. "Do you think that's possible? For...For one of the voices to be in control of me?" He shouldn't be having this conversation with anyone, probably least of all Rogue.

[x-childish-x]

Could write a Drabble where Bucky had left reader for someone else but ends up regretting but reader cutoff all contact so he can’t apologize. Then (August Walker) readers husband is helping the team with a mission and he says he has a special someone that will be helping them then BOOM it’s the reader.

Returning

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Fandom: Marvel

Warnings: violence, descriptive fighting, knives, guns, death, mentions of blood, mentions of a mafia (very breifly), mentions to a breakup

Word Count: 544

A/N: OKAY I MADE AUGUST WALKER GOOD!!! I'm not the happiest with this, but I think that's purely because I had the urge to make this into a super long one-shot, lmao. Anyways, I kept it short and I really hope that you enjoy this! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Thank you so much for all the support, it means so much! I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG!

Summary: Bucky left you, and after finally moving on from him you find yourself having to face him once again as you help your husband, August Walker, on a mission.

PART TWO

(gif not mine!)

Bucky has made a lot of mistakes in his life. And his biggest mistake was under his own free will. You gave Bucky everything throughout your relationship. It was smooth, easy, with Bucky. The two of you were like yin and yang, so different in your ways but truly perfectly together. He brought joy and light into your life, and you brought the same to him. And it was for that exact reason that you could never figure out why he left you.

Sure, Sharon was smart and beautiful and badass... but everything she offered to Bucky you could give and more. You had been heartbroken and felt the easiest, quickest solution was to cut off all contact with him immediately. You resigned from the Avengers and decided to flee to Paris.

Paris provided you growth, opportunities, and hell... you were not going to mope over a 100-year-old man who left you. August Walker was not the kind of man to avoid treasure, but instead was the kind of man to go running after it. And most certainly, when he saw you one night at a bar, he couldn't help but go up to you, and from there, the rest was history. You had immediately hit it off together and got married after just a year of being together.

It was easy to fall into step with him. You worked flawlessly and seamlessly. Hell, it made it feel like your past life was just a dream as you traveled the world with Walker, defending those who needed it and consistently growing your relationship as you did so.

It wasn't often that the two of you separated for missions, but of course, this would be one of the times. However, much like you expected, two days in, you received a call from Walker. Getting your bag and heading to the airport was incredibly easy. You were excited to be heading back to New York after four years, but as the plane flew farther and farther away from Spain, the more nervous you became.

"Just wanted to warn you guys someone is coming to help us," Walker commented dryly to the Avengers, standing by the door impatiently.

"Uh, buddy, I didn't approve for another member," Tony spoke up, glaring at the man's back.

Walker rolled his eyes, "I don't need your approval. She's my wife, and she's the only way we'll finish this mission."

Everyone's eyes shifted directly to August as he quickly walked out the door. You bolted into his chest, his large arms wrapping around your figure and covering far too much to reveal whoever you were to everyone else. You had quickly realized the address August had sent you was the Avengers facility, and you figured it would be best to act as confident as possible. Slowly, he pulled back, and Nat seemed to be the only one to recognize you at first.

August stepped to the side, revealing you to everyone. Bucky's heart dropped to the floor, shock paralyzing him as tears swam in his eyes, clouding his vision. Steve had now stepped forward along with Nat, both staring at you in a way that was asking permission.

You smiled widely, opening your arms to your two favorite Avengers, "I'm back bitches."

[yostresswritinggirl]

Abandoned By The Altar

Part 3.1; were you really meant to be? VIBE

A timeline oriented story focused on your once perfect childhood relationship as Diluc’s bride to be, soon becoming estranged after the death of his father and his neglect. You only wish now that he looks at you the same way he did when you heard you were supposed to be together forever when you were young.

Pairings -> Diluc x Reader

Word Count -> 3510

Themes -> Reconciliation, Cyno was here, estranged relationships everywhereee

Series -> Part of Sojourner and Bonafide (event masterlist) Part 2

Warnings -> Goddamn violence

In the winery empire of the city of wine and freedom, this world is ruled by two unmatched tycoons that never fall from the top pedestal, with the mastery over wine-making and business marketing. Truly when it comes to this matter, Diluc Ragnvindr and (Y/N) (L/N) are the scariest and most charming duo to befall such economical prowess.

So when parties and gatherings are held in the Winery, noblemen and businessmen all over Teyvat scramble for a chance of invitation to level themselves to at least a humble chat with the prestigious business duo.

Yet even if they were witness, they will never be privy to the true secrets those two hold within.

"Apologies, esteemed guests. Master Diluc must excuse himself for a while," your stare shifted to the side over the rim of the glass you were cradling. His ruby eyes meeting yours after sparing the wine glass a stare, a meek nod you then reciprocate as he goes past your side with the Fatui Harbinger, the Seneschal and all other company joins him at a private room.

"But there is no cause for concern. The party shall continue under the supervision of the Mistress," you set down your drink upon hearing your name, stepping up to offer a humble yet radiant smile. You hope things work out on his end, was your thought as you finally entertained the remaining guests who recognize your prowess.

Behind your back you flicked your wrist as the Albino silently slinks away from the limelight to prepare.

The intervention was not as long as it was in terms, and yet the moment was painstakingly slow for your side. Many noblemen seeked not only your prestige as the master practitioner of economics but also the perfect wife ready for the taking. Your fingers uneasily fumble with the infinity ring on your hand, something they barely paid mind to as they continued their attempts to woo you, something you can only sigh over.

Unfortunately your 'relationship' with Diluc was still something only a few people know. There was no need to make it public yes, but it also caused a lot of unpleasant interactions that you wished you could easily avoid by telling, something you couldn't do to ensure your safety. Diluc was still a huge mystery to you despite the assurance of your encounter in the garden of cecilias.

But you thought to yourself with a sigh, a promise ring is different from an engagement ring.

A hand suddenly slides around your shoulder as you were distracted, and your head whipped to the side where the presence was with your elbow read to break a rib- "I hope I'm not intervening an important discussion," Diluc’s eyes bore straight ahead to the Fontaine businessman you were half-heartedly conversing with and your arm immediately drops to your side, "But I must discuss an urgent matter with the lady as well."

The Fontainian grumbles as he pries his head away from the hand on your head, producing his best smile in forced understanding as Diluc sweeps you away to the back. This is for a serious matter but the consistent grip on your shoulder had your mind reeling. It was only when he revealed his equipped Delusion did you have the mind to finally focus and work on your own attire.

"Guards! Take down the assassin!"

The blunt end of your polearm smacks painfully against the back of the chest plate of the guards, knocking three out as you look over to the Darknight to see him dispose the two nearest him. You then watch in awe as he summons chains from thin air, gripping them as he expertly throws it at the escaping Master Krupp, and like a lasso he was captured by the slithering cage.

Diluc's power always intrigued you since the day you were first witness of it. Not a Vision but definitely not far from it. He's also in the dark of its true meaning but even you know that he had a little bit of information from his four years of isolation, something he didn't want to tell you.

As your raise your head from staring at his Delusion, hearing their grunts of interviews, a glint to your right suddenly alerted you of another presence. "Wait-!"

"Master's planning to-"

You muffled your horrified gasp at the sight of the blood shooting out of Krupp's side, your polearm shakes in your hand before tightening your grip once again as you two turn to the assassin. Il Dotorre stands there in great poise two giant needles hovering by his sides.

He just killed his own companion, such thoughts made your face twist under the black veil that covers your identity as much as it could. And those thoughts distracted you from the one-sided conversation in front of you, "Keep up the good work and hone your unimpressive powers.

But this visionless one," an arm slinks around your waist in a blink, a masked face inches away from yours that forced you to hold your breath, "is much more remarkable than you."

Before Diluc could even reprimand him, he disappears within seconds after bidding his farewell. And your knees would have buckled if not for your fiancé catching you in the nick of time, collapsing at the tense situation that had passed.

You could have died like Krupp.

But the feeling of Diluc's arms squeezing you protectively reminds you of your existence.

Not even a day old of cecilias were swept off the stone slab in place of newly harvested ones, both batches can be mistaken to be the same with how healthy they still seem to be. This was Diluc's observation as he watches you replace the flowers on his father's grave. Crepus Ragnvindr.

Perhaps it was his own neglect and adamant refusal that made him forget about this isolated cemetery. He expected the grave keeper or at least a member of the Winery to keep it well-kept, not you who seems to have come to this place on a daily basis.

The smile he enjoys and dreads is wiped from your face as you offer a silent prayer. Eyes closed and hands together. Next to you Diluc only stands with his arms crossed as his gaze continues to linger at the engraved words.

Lisa was at the mansion earlier to investigate about the recent Fatui incident, and as the interrogation ensued by the gazebo of the Cecilia gardens, Diluc realized that you lingered in the distance to eavesdrop. In the span since your arrival and before his, did anyone else explain the accident to you? What did you hear? Did anyone actually tell you anything?

And maybe these questions were the reason that he willingly accepted your invitation to visit his father's grave just like that.

Four years without your constant touch and smiles had broken Diluc into who he is now, an empty shell of a man who once had high hopes. A helpless puppet who struggles to grasp the man he was before. And as he moves closer enough for your shoulders to touch, it was an unconscious gesture that cries for your help in the turmoil that spirals in his head.

But when you look at him with a reassuring smile— Diluc's walls fortified by four years of hatred and isolation all came crashing down with the heavy wave of his tears. The pain of that day pours out of his lips as he felt small within your arms, eyes painfully avoiding your face.

The true story of his father's death, the disaster that lead to his resignation from Ordo Favonius, his quest to find answers in all the years he had abandoned his life in Mondstadt.

There were details that you were unaware was truncated from his confessions, the only ones that mattered were those he spilled.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," words the both of you repeated for the pain you two couldn't confide to with one another ever since that day.

No, things wouldn't be fixed in one day. Hearts destroyed for years cannot be melded back today, but it is that moment that solidifies the trust between you two:

That deep within the abyss of your souls lie the desperate desire to reach out to one another like they used to before.

The petals of the Cecilias on Crepus' gravestone tilts in respect, but within it blooms a new hope you were both not witness to.

Only the elderly and close acquaintances knew of your original existence in Mondstadt, and only a few ever recognizes your prior occupation and childhood before you left for Sumeru. Even if you had only been gone for two years, changes so drastic happened in your wake.

The most painful one always lingers in the back of your mind, never failing to bring a frown to your face.

"You loved Ludi Harpastum when we were children, so what's with the long face?" Your eyes that lingered on Amber and her new friend looks up to the ones next to you, eyes also distant as it comes upon yours.

You couldn't tell him or even ask about Crepus, not now at least. But the words he spoke washed away the melancholy off your face, smile brightened at the idea that he still remembers such precious memories. He looks away immediately. "I do, but I'm not a kid anymore, the festival caters to children's participation."

Diluc hums in agreement and the talk ceases like so. He's not into small talk but the short conversation still had you feeling light and euphoric.

Soon enough Amber had come over to introduce the two of you to her demure friend Collei, shy and hesitant but still trying her best to be polite. An imagined arrow pierces through your heart at the cute child in front of you, and you couldn't help but coo and oogle at her.

So adorable with beautiful green hair, unique and paired perfectly with her wide eyes. Every compliment makes her face redder. This only makes your fangirling worse, already hugging the flustered child who's having an internal mental breakdown.

"Oh, I wish I could have a child as pretty as youuu!"

Amber looked up upon the sudden shift of his posture, absolutely baffled at the sight of Master Diluc's face as colorful as his hair as his gloved hand desperately tries to hide it. The knight felt like she had witnessed something she shouldn't, immediately snapping her head back to you and Collei with her lips trying its hardest not to break into a smile.

You were on your knees to be eye-level with Collei as you held her hand, placing on it a bag of mora as you told her to use it to enjoy the most out of the festival. Her previous embarrassment still lingers as evidence on her still flushed cheeks, yet her eyes had in it a gaze of awe.

There was hesitance when Amber finally dragged Collei away to venture through the festival more, leaving you in exaggerated tears at the departure of 'a little angel' with a still silent Diluc next to you. The sun had already set, and yet you two stood in place for a little longer.

The thought of having children passing by your minds.

If there's a recipe for a good time in Angel's Share, Kaeya knows what it is.

A cold glass of Death After Noon, raucous laughter spurred on by joyous tunes, and just the right company. It was a while since he'd last felt such comfort with company, he thought as he holds back a smile and grimace as he sips the sour grape juice in his mouth, eyes twinkling as he watches your already flushed face intensify as you down your drink.

When Kaeya had heard from multiple yet scarce accounts from the servants of the Winery on how you act drunk, he felt it was his mission and privilege to find out how such moment happens. And so one night when you two had the time to sit down at Angel's Share, what should have been a night of a single drink and grape juice after switched around to nothing but liquor.

"You've been looking at us weird the whole day, do you want to fight?" The Cavalry Captain reached for your hand to settle down your glass, but when you literally threw your drink against the wall with a loud bang, he knew he was done for when at his peripherals he saw the horrified look of your Fiancé as he was immediately alerted with the breaking of glass.

"Oh shit, she's feral," Kaeya breathed incredulously with a small, small hint of awe as he watched you pull up your sleeves to throw hands.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Luluuuu!" The swordsman did NOT miss the minute detail of Diluc's red stare recognizing the switched drinks on the table, exposing his involvement on the matter. If it were not for your intoxicated self barreling towards your fiancé, he would have been given a scalding glare.

A jumbled mess of a conversation transpired before the captain, made up of hushed grumbles and slurred whines sometimes filled with begging or with rage from the random person you'd set pure hatred upon seconds ago. Your hand clutched his sleeve as his other one was placed on your shoulder to ground you, somehow this proximity and interaction... made Kaeya remember the first time he met you.

"Alright, that should be enough for tonight," the third wheel clapped his gloved hands together as he stood from his table. "This commotion is on me, I'll take her home-"

"What gave you the idea that I'd let you?"

The same hostility that started four years ago made the man of frost- freeze where he stood, challenging the accusing glare with a playful squint. The mini stand-off already made the other patrons too curious as all attention was caught by the trio, while you had your face buried to Diluc's fluffy ponytail as his bargaining chip for calming/distracting you.

Diluc isn't familiar with taking care of a drunkard, only kicking them out. If he were to leave you at your current state, he'd be clueless as is on the mistakes that would pile up.

Kaeya raised this point as he reached over to take your arm, the redhead publicly wrapping his arms around you protectively in response. The blunette wasn't even wary of the increasing agitation his sworn brother wore but the scandalous gasps and gossips the customers around them now speak at the action.

Get a grip, Diluc, you wanted to keep this hidden, didn't you? By some miracle, he managed to communicate this telepathically through side glances and gritted teeth.

But if there was one thing the Ragnvindr had inherited from being with you for more than ten years:

It was your stubbornness.

...

When you roused from your slumber, you were in an unusual place yet one so familiar. The nostalgia hit you tenfold more than the headache your hangover dangerously inflicted, "How did I get here even?" It was four years since you've last seen this place, set foot in this room even.

The moonlight hitting through the room's balcony tells you it's around midnight.

The room didn't change a bit last you remember it, as if it was well-kept despite being abandoned. The lamp that was tilted a little bit, books of stories you've read long ago were arranged the same way you'd left it. Not a single dust catches on to your soles as your feet touched the wooden floor of your room in the Ragnvindr's home.

It was still creaky at some parts of which you expertly maneuvered around bare, shoes discarded in place for stealth as you exited to the corridor. No sounds or light emanates from the underside of Diluc's room across from yours, without checking you weaved through the hall to climb down the main stairs.

You find your man seated by the fireplace. You may not live here anymore but even you were well aware of his insomnia that stretches past sunrise.

"You're awake," he speaks when you reached the main floor.

"Look who's talking," you mumbled cheekily as you sat adjacent to him, noticing his quick glance at your bare feet.

Tight lipped as it may, you saw a little quirk to the edges of his lips that lifted up your spirits through the small chatter and mostly silent time after that. The crackles and embers of the furnace was good company too, and yet it was not enough to distract you from the obvious stare he was giving to your leg.

Anxiously you hid one your foot behind the other, folding your legs under the chair's shadow when his gaze didn't waver. Perhaps it wasn't that bright of an idea to leave your room barefoot, maybe it was too childish, for him especially if it was bothering this much.

You opened your mouth to excuse yourself, or maybe defend your actions,

"Can I touch you? Nothing- Nothing sexual, there's just something I need go check."

You didn't have to ask, was what you wanted to say. But you held back your tongue in favor of giving a meek nod, curious and faintly doubtful of whatever it is that he would do.

Yet when he kneeled down and gently took your leg upon his hold, you can't help but smile solemnly as his gloved touch reached your thigh where the scar from long ago lingers. Diluc's eyes stayed on that spot, soothing the long lost pain with rubbing circles.

Ticklish, as he leans down to graze a soft kiss to it. It almost made you cry with how gentle this Diluc is in front of you.

"I promise... I'll do better. With every heartbeat I have left, I will defend your every breathe."

You're crying now.

One faithful morning in a miraculous setting where Diluc was the only one available to tend to the reception, a young man presents himself by the entrance with a passive look. This unfamiliar man was someone he knew, something he realized when he finally looked down for a better view past the black hood.

"I am here in the guidance of an old address. Is this where (Y/N) (L/N)?"

"I'm (Y/N)'s fiancé, what do you want?"

"... That does not answer my question, but I am only here to see how life has been faring since two years past."

Diluc never felt discomfort in silence as heavy as this. Having to walk with Cyno the whole way to Mondstadt from the Winery was not part of his itinerary, nor did he wholy agree to the arrangement. Perhaps it was because he knew how you two were good friends back from his 'observations' in the Academia that he felt responsible.

Or it was his pride to not let the shorter guy know that you were in fact, not resident to his home despite being betrothed.

It would have been very weird.

"What the actual- Cyno?! Is that really you?!" Why you were near the gates that day was a mystery to them both, but at the sight of the familiar figure had you barreling towards the foreigner, tackling him into a hug with a laugh so carefree it almost pained him.

That was your signature move to when you always met him excitedly in your childhood. Diluc shakes away the thought as he stood at the side to watch and eavesdrop. You're around the same height as the Sumerian, although the hood and ears? makes it hard to distinguish who was taller between you two.

"What are you doing so far out from the Academia? Aww, did you miss me?" Playful as always to those you are close to.

Scarlet eyes found its way to him in a split second. "I came here under the request of Lisa, she needed scholarly help over an important matter," your pout had him smile a tiny bit, "but it is relieving to meet you once again."

In a honesty, it was a curious case as to why he was even there, lingering. He has work to do, the Tavern's first shift was his. But when he took a step away Diluc found it very difficult to leave you be, to leave you with this... person.

He has no business here.

He shouldn't idle.

He's not the type to idle.

You turn your head at the sound of footsteps as you realized Diluc approaching, who you honestly thought already departed during your reunion with Cyno. "Ah, senpai, I wanted to introduce to you my-" full and pale lips captured your words in a quick swift dip, a grip on your waist to steady you before he stood back too quick for you to react.

"I'll get going, stay safe."

Quick and concise like his kiss, Diluc left in hurried steps as you stood there, a mess. He'd never- he has never-

"How amusing," the words the Sumerian uttered barely registered into your short-circuiting brain.

I can't believe this. I'm actually cutting this to a fourth part what the fuck, I swear the next one is the last,holy-

@optimestick @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @mortifiedmoon @dankchikorita @endeavors-big-dick @karlitaburrito @bunniesrorange

[ordinariums-a]

Yeah... Peter wanted to believe that. So, so badly. And he trusted Harry to at least try and make good on that statement. But seeing the pain of the other Harry, not to mention - the 'trend' that had happened throughout the multiverse, it didn't... fill him with confidence. And whilst he appreciated Harry's attempt at comfort, he knew that Peter was the one that had fucked up here. Repeatedly, consistently, for over two decades. Twenty three years to be exact. Harry owed him nothing. And Harry... was owed the right to feel betrayed.

"You're my best friend." he rectified, with a week shrug and a small motion towards Harry. Because no matter what jam he had been in, Spider-Man or Peter Parker, no matter how much he put his friends at arms lengths, Harry had always been there. Even if Peter hadn't let him in, he had always been a comforting presence; a route he could always take to feel better. And Peter had tried to be there for him, too. They were best friends. As much as they could be without Peter being honest.

He sighed, and reached for his drink, holding it between his hands. Was there even a good way to phrase this? Miguel had said that his brother had just worked it out, wasn't the best of reactions but they were cool now. As cool as they could be when Miguel hadn't told him he was leaving. And he had heard of other Harry's working it out, but never... a situation where Peter had actually straight up told him.

"Okay. Okay, okay---" This would be easier if he was gay. "This is something I wanted to tell you about, I was just scared the first couple of years. And then, because I hadn't told you already, it got harder and harder and then I got busier and ---- I just, I was stupid. And I'm sorry. But I'm telling you now because you deserve to know. Because I don't want to just turn up dead one day and -- and make you feel like you didn't know me at all. Like I didn't trust you, because I do."

There's a pause, and he slurps a bit of his drink from the straw. Just say it- say it! He could deal with whatever happened, hell, he had a whole Spider-Society to help if it went wrong, not to mention MJ and Mayday. He wasn't alone. You got this, Parker.

"..."

Nope, couldn't say it. He took a small quick look around (the coast was clear), before immediately shifting gears. Not giving himself enough time to back out, he thwipp'd a web to the main bar; taking the ketchup that was there and pulling it back into his hand. Then, he placed it in front of Harry, hesitantly lingering for a second, before letting go.

"...Y'know, I also brought alcohol." He offered after a deep breath and a quiet moment. "You want some?"

There were very few people he welcomed, much less invited, into his personal space, but Peter had been among that number for so long that he didn't even consider objecting as the hug lasted a shade more than usual. He'd missed his friend, for all that he understood that now, more than ever, Peter's time had to be focused on his family.

It still worried him a shade more than he was, for all that he pushed it down and very gladly let himself be distracted by the pictures of the cutest child he knew: not only was Peter's enthusiasm infectious, but Harry had always found children adorable, and the one that was his best friends'? The one that was also his goddaughter? Harry adored her.

"Show me." He'd asked, even if he'd already known that there was no stopping Peter now. And even if he'd been able to, even if his smile at the pictures weren't as honest as it was -for all he'd have loved to see Mayday in person- he wouldn't have. Because seeing his friend this enthusiastic again was worth any and all patience.

"She's easily the cutest baby I've ever seen." He agreed. "But she has your smile for mischief, and that's terrifying." He also commented, soft and fond and easy.

Parenthood had done Peter well, and Harry was happy to see it.

Harry had also noticed a few hints his wife Liz had been dropping as of lately, but that was not the matter at hand. Because there was a matter at hand, and Harry had not let himself be distracted. This had been too sudden, too immediate.

And as Peter spoke, the questions kept piling up in Harry's mind: what had happened? Nothing bad, Peter said, but Harry leaned back, tried to keep his expression steady, for all the worry in his gaze. He didn't want to make assumptions, and he didn't want to let his mind run wild, but what was he to think?

Peter had been fiercely independent and very much willing to attend to his own problems, barely ever letting Harry help. Even now, when Harry was easily one of the most influential men in the city, ever since his father had stepped down -well, had been somewhat forced to step down by the board some years ago- as CEO and Harry had taken his place.

But if it was something that he should have told him long ago? Harry found himself frowning. It certainly couldn't be a matter of coming out, not given how Peter knew Harry had dated men in the past. Could it be something about Oscorp? But then, why wait?

"I'm listening." He said at last, keeping his tone gentle, looking into Peter's eyes as he crossed his arms over the table, kicking his fear down. "And I'm your friend. Whatever it is, and no matter how large the mess, I'm certain there's something we can do about it."